The Spectral Breath
by Crystallised-Hearts
Summary: Strangers arrive within the confines of Skyhold seeking aid. A strange magic plagues Lahris' body. It's killing her and her only way of salvation is to seek help from those who wish to fix the tear in the sky. Though, she isn't who she claims to be and holds a secret that might just be her undoing. Solas x OC. Comments appreciated.
1. Soul Keeper

The Spectral Breath

Chapter One: Soul Keeper

_Curse the blighted cold_.

Stiff fingers gripped the cold, frayed rope of the reigns and tugged back from the horse's mane. The stallion, as dark as ink amongst the growing cloud, drew its head back with a heavy, unsettled grunt and adjusted its course with little ease. The slow, struggled strides through the mountain path proved trouble for him, as it did us. The path would not have been found if it were not for the banners nailed into the snow-deep monoliths close to the cliff faces and the crows that perched themselves on dead tree stocks and jagged mountain walls. Beyond that was an ash-smeared sheet, pulled taut over a horizon that could barely be seen, even to the piercing gaze of a hawk.

The cold had seemed mild at the beginning, but I should have known that it would not last the night. It began as minor cloud over the distant mountains, barely anything to be weary of, but later turned deadly. The clouds had clustered together into a veil that barely had a rift of light piercing through. The wind came from the North, unruly and unkind in its approach and seeped through the thick furs of my clothing with absurd ease. Each drop of chilled rain soaked through the instant of its impact. I tried to keep my body heat from draining away, but it seemed that with each ragged breath, the air stole a little bit more heat from my lungs like a thief with a strongbox and grounded it into nothingness with fading claws.

"How are you faring, Da'mi?" called a voice through the long, drawn-out howls of the wind.

With little strength, my fingers numbly tugged at the side of my hood until the shawl had come loose and was pulled past pointed ears. Hesitant, I peered out over the blurred surroundings and tried to focus on the far shadow of the horsemen that only grew fainter with each blink. The horsemen did not wait for a reply. He steered his mount left and steadily drew closer to where I was.

Jaras pulled the fabric of his scarf down past his sharp jaw and scarred lips and pushed back the strands of dark hair from his once tanned face. After only one glance, I knew that he had noticed my condition. His expression quickly turned from one of caution to a set of stern lines.

"Emma Souveri [I am weary]," I whispered in the elvhen tongue, while holding onto the slightest of hope that he had not heard me.

He had. "Lahris?"

"I'm growing cold, Jaras," I said and hesitantly gazed down my arm. I could feel the scar as it grew with each passing hour. The pain lessened once the feeling in my fingers had left me, but I still managed to shudder at the thought of it. "Damn it."

He reached his arm down to his saddle's satchel, but I caught it before he took hold of a vile. "It's no use," I said with a shake of my head. "Don't waste it."

"Then what can I do?"

I bit my tongue. "I can feel myself slipping away. I haven't long. How much father must we travel?"

My companion gazed out over the turmoil of ice, cloud and stone. An arched hand rested over his brow for cover. "Not far now," he said after a long moment. His voice was barely heard and began to drift into a whisper amongst the other noises that blended together. "I can see the outline of the city. We're close, Lahris. Just hang in there."

I wanted to. I hadn't journeyed all that way for nothing, but even though I was so close, I could feel the life within me slip away.

The stretch of snow passed and withered into patches of dark ice upon a cobbled ground. When darkness had settled and the weather had slightly cleared, we could see the flickers of small fires north, close to the far side of the path. Nestled between the highest peaks of the mountain was a fortress worn with age and cracked with snow. Scones lit the way to the tall, stone towers, restrained with heavy chains and thick layers of ice.

A thread-bared banner waved us past as we approached. The fortress' iron gates were barred from behind, yet after Jaras' horse reared its legs, the shadows from the inside halted mid-stride and turned to face their newcomers.

Jaras slipped from his mount, shook the excess snow from his cloak and thighs and hurried over to the front gate.

"You there!" bellowed a guardsman from behind the iron bars. "Who goes there?"

"We're here to seek aid," Jaras had said and slipped a scroll from his satchel into the guardsmen's leather-bound hands. "Let us in."

Even from a distance, it was obvious the guardsman had trouble making out the words wrote on the parchment. He gestured for another to shine a torch over his head for light, but even that did not last with the waging war of the wind. "Mercenaries?" he finally said, but it was more of an accusation then a greeting. "We already have mercenaries."

"Don't be a fool," said Jaras. "You've seen the hole in the sky. A few more fighters couldn't hurt. We're willing. We're able, and we're here. Now, open the gate."

The guard did not.

Jaras sighed in frustration. "Look, we both know that the Inquisition can use all the help it can get. My friend, she is unwell. She needs a healer. Are you going to let us in or am I going to have to break this Veil-saken gate open myself?"

"That won't be necessary," said the guardsman and turned back to his men. After a moment, movement had begun again and the guard gestured back to the others with a raised arm. "They're refugees. Open the gate!"

The great gate was dragged open and the barricades inside were pulled away. Crows fled from the disruption and only their black feathers remained. In silence I tapped my heels against the horse's sides and leaned forward. The horse's hooves clattered loudly against the ground as we moved, but paled in comparison to the heavy thunder the gate made when it was shut.

Tall, grey and grim-looking buildings edged the fortress' courtyard. Most held no light within their arched windows, and some had blocked them completely with several planks of wood. However, there was one building that was different. The larger windows of the Keep were bright and did not reflect the darkness of the sky. I could smell the lingered affects of berries and ale and heard tales sung from within. It made me wonder what was inside and why it was so full of life in such a dark time.

With the reigns in hand, Jaras led the horses to the stable area and loosely strapped my satchel to his shoulder.

The pain had begun to return and swelled my bones with strain and unease. My feet almost buckled when I dismounted, but I managed to catch myself before the impact. Guardsmen headed our way. Behind them was a woman. She wore a long robe, tied around the waist by strips of leather and silver buckles. Her thin hair was covered by a dark hood and she held an oak staff topped by a steel, arrowhead tip crowned with spikes around the edges. She took the narrow steps from the Keep down. Her worried gaze swept over the courtyard and then eventually rested on mine.

The voices of the guardsmen clamoured together. Some wondered whether to inform their superiors while others seemed weary of Jaras and I's appearance. Their fingers kept close to their sword's sheathes.

Jaras stepped to one side to allow her to pass. The healer halted a few feet away and looked me over. "I see no physical wounds."

_Of course you wouldn't, _I thought.

With a firm hand on the wall for support, I leaned back and undid the straps to my gauntlets. With those gone, the sharp bite of the air picked at the deep, ghastly, black marks that had scarred my skin. They were jagged lines with a broad size and many cross ridges that ran up from the tip of my wrist to my shoulder blade.

"By the Maker," the healer whispered. Fear was etched into every wrinkle and she quickly stammered back.

"What is it?" asked one of the guards as he stepped closer to the healer. An arm stretched out.

"I-I have never seen such a thing," she said and then her eyes became wide.

The guards turned to each other in confusion. Jaras stepped out from the rest.

"We were told you could help," he said. "You have to help her."

The healer simply shook her head. "But I do not even know where to begin, ser!"

Both argued for what seemed like hours or maybe longer, but as they did so, a feeling crept up the veins of my arm and tugged at the skin with harsh pulls. I stared back down at the scar, still large and gruesome. A small spark of violet light passed through it. My fingers twitched.

_No. Not again._

My blood burned from the inside. It juddered through my shoulders, arms and back. I collapsed with a gasp. Dampness clung to the finer strands of my hair as my head rolled back. A scream tore its way through me.

A shadow approached. Through the flashes and sparks was a worried face beneath his helmet. He reached out with shaking arms.

"No. Don't touch her!" Jaras cried.

It was too late. I could feel the surge of magic spring from the confines of my skin. The light tore through the guardsman's breastplate with a crack. Blood sluiced the iron and slid down in long rivulets to drip onto his boots.

He stood still. His arms were splayed out on either side. A strangled choke was all he managed to utter before his face dipped into the dirt.

The courtyard fell silent. Then, gasps, screams and angry curses filled the silence.

"Apostate!" many called.

"Murderer!" called others.

Swords sprang from their sheathes and were held high. Crossbows were aimed down from the towers and walls. Jaras drew his blade in turn and placed a protective hand over me.

"It's not her fault," he said. "If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get."

I watched dazed as the sparks flew up into the heavens, the buildings and in all directions save from where I laid. The guards leaped for cover and arrows were struck into the ground before me. The tips only just missed my body.

"Lahris," called a hoarse voice. It was Jaras' voice but it faded until it could not be heard. Nothing could be heard. Deafness claimed my hearing and blindness began to accompany it.

Lights formed beneath my eyelids. Blood ribboned through the air around, but it was not mine. No, it was from the others. Men and women. Guardsmen and healer. It felt like an endless, worldless time.

"Ah!" The breath was knocked out of me. My bloodied fingers contracted, twitched and curled.

Squinting through the veil of pain I saw the magic flicker, spark and then disappear into the hands of an elvhen. The mage raised his staff once more and hit the ground hard. Shock rove through me. Every body part and limb screamed for freedom and shuddered. I gasped, flung sideways, curled up my knees and shivered. The lasting effects of his spell slowly calmed.

"What's going on?" demanded a voice. She was difficult to see, as was all. Blurred forms were all they were, yet by her voice alone I could tell she was a woman. Human, perhaps.

The elvhen's hand branched out. The human looked my way and then around.

Bodies hunched and still were scattered around the courtyard. Blades and remnants of the steel and iron were buried deep within the walls. Their faces were unseen, but the crimson splattered against the snow made what I did obvious to all.

"By the Maker," whispered the human woman. Her tone rose in shock. "What happened here?"

The elvhen looked to the ground and picked out the charcoal remains of Jaras' scroll. He gently handed it to the human and then looked back.

I opened my mouth to speak, but all I managed was to take in a ragged breath.

The elvhen inclined his head. His movements were slow and calm, yet cautious. The sight of him was given with some clarity. I could make out the high cheekbones on a pale face, the brows deeply connected above a sharp nose and dark eyes filled with many emotions: surprise, weariness and pity, but amongst them all one stood out. Intrigue.

"Ma emma harel," I whispered as the spread of darkness grew around me.

His expression only grew more curious as his gaze drifted to my arm.

"Solas? What does she say?" demanded the human.

The elvhen kept quiet for a moment before he replied. "You should fear me."


	2. Innocent Until Proven

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Two: Innocent Until Proven

Feeling. Touch. Consciousness. Still alive, it seemed.

I took in a deep breath. The faint smell of stale sweat, iron and damp was the first to catch me off guard. The second was how cold the air felt and the third was the rough and unevenness of the ground I lay upon. The small, sharp rocks rested underneath my side and poked my ribs with every little movement. Quiet murmurings and rough voices seemed to resonate from the walls and floor and whispered around like the faint sounds one could hear when pressed underwater.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to make sense of what the murmurings said. I gave up after a few heartbeats. The words, if they were words at all, were spoken too quickly and quietly for my benefit, but as I felt the life return to my limbs and arched out my back, the sharp jarring and clanking of metal stopped me.

I didn't like that sound. The things that could relate to it were few and the very thought made my gut churn.

As I opened my eyes, I could only make out a blur of dark timber and high-gabled wall. Darkness claimed nearly every corner of the chamber, apart from the small slits of light, cast from the narrow ceiling cracks and the two sconces nailed close to the doorway and the back wall.

The iron bindings rattled as I tried to sit up. My reward was a flash of pain across my right arm.

"Fenedhis," I cursed with a gasp.

Gingerly, I felt my right shoulder. From the tip of the shoulder blade to the flat of my palm was bound tightly in fresh linen strips, and wrapped quite well. While slow at first, the linen did partially unwrap and I was able to get a peak at how far the scars had grown. They hadn't, surprisingly. It seemed that luck was on my side for once. Patches of worn and burned skin were usual; it was something I grown accustomed to. The deeper groves were also expected, but the fact that the scarring hadn't grown further was both a relief and worrying.

My thoughts were disturbed by the clamour of thumps that hammered from above. Disrupted stone and dust flaked from the ceiling's corners and oak beams. There must have been another floor above me, which meant I was most likely in some kind of cellar. Perhaps even a prison cell.

It was alright, though. I was not dead, yet. All I had to do was figure a way out.

I enclosed my palms and muttered a quiet incantation. I drew my strength from the cold air, from the whispering wind that came through the cracks and then the pools of ice in the furthest edges of the chamber, and weaved them into a channel of magic that penetrated the shackle's locks and froze it in place. The ice glistened against the fire's light, but as soon as I tried to pull the shackles free from their bolts, the ice began to melt and the chains remained the way they were.

For a time, the shackles were bound in green light, but it was only momentary, and the spell inflicted on it faded into the previous grime-stricken grey. Runes. Of course. Magic would not help me with those in affect. How clever of them.

The voices outside had grown louder as time passed. Footsteps, some heavy and some light, moved closer to the door. I heard the rasp of the door bolt and then the handle fell flat.

Immediately, there was movement within the room. It was sharp, quick and purposeful. The movements belonged to a human woman with dark hair, an angular face and sharp eyes. Pale scars ran along her jawline and cheek; an indication of her dealings with others and that she was not one to cross. Her skin, tanned yet rugged, portrayed many sleepless nights over the course of many months and the worries only few could imagine. Despite this, I knew it would be wise to be cautious around her.

Behind her was another, but that woman kept close to the shadow and hid herself from view.

The first human began to circle me like a wolf at its prey. Her gaze never left my form and only seemed to grow colder as she explained, "You enter Skyhold under the false pretense that you are a mercenary willing to fight for our cause and then you go and fatally injure my guardsmen. Some have wounds that will never heal. Explain yourself. Why have you come here?"

I refused to answer, but recognised her as the woman from before. The harsh and assertive nature behind her voice was unmistakable, as was the thick accent.

Her expression was as hard as a sword's blade and, without any warning, she locked her arm around my wrist and held it up high for all to see.

I steeled myself against the pain and pulled back successfully. "Do not touch me!" I yelled as my other arm wound round it protectively.

The human scoffed. "You have no power here. Tell me why we should spare your life."

Fear struck within my chest. "You're going to kill me?" I whispered.

"Only if you do not speak the truth," she said as she continued her patrol around me. "Answer the question."

Lying would be of no use, but I had no intention of telling her anything that lead to who I was. I remained silent for a few moments and thought over my answers carefully.

"I came to seek aid," I said.

The human's strides came to a swift end and, slowly, she turned. "Aid? What you did to my men was not aid."

"That wasn't my fault. Your men were told to stay away. They did not and suffered the consequences. I could not control my power."

Her voice sharpened. "What do you mean your _power?_"

I lowered my gaze. "Where do you think the energy came from that hurt your men? It wasn't by choice. I came here having heard that you could help me." I raised my head, hoping my face had stayed blank. "To stop _this_." I nodded to my arm. "Your foolish men just got in the way."

"There are many rebel mages outside of the Inquisition. Go to them to learn to control your magic."

"It's not my magic. It's..." I hesitated.

She leaned in closer. "It's what?"

"I don't know. It's not controllable. I've tried, but it's not like my ability to cast spells."

"Explain."

"I can't. Look, I didn't purposefully hurt your men. It's not like I came here to end your cause. If I did, I doubt I'd be here in this... _lovely_ place."

The human pulled back and rested her arms against her chest. "And if I were to believe such nonsense, who told you of us?"

"Now that, I cannot tell you."

"Under what reason?"

"He's dead."

"You're lying."

I bit my tongue, hard, until I tasted blood. The fear of their judgement weighed heavily on my mind, but I could not show weakness. _Could she not see that I was innocent?_

"That still doesn't explain why you expected us to help you," said the woman from the shadow. She took a step out. A hood covered the majority of her face, but strands of red hair came through. "Why did you really come here? Where did that power come from?"

"There's no use, Leliana," replied the other human. "Either way, her fate is not our decision. That belongs to the Herald."

"That doesn't mean that we can't gain information from her, Cassandra," Leliana said and looked back at me. "Speak. Plea your case while you still have our attention."

"It's a long story," I admitted, "but I was told of your Inquisition. You are trying to close the breach, yes? This power, magic- whatever you want to call it, it's killing me, or was. I'm not sure why it isn't reacting now but it's like poison. I was told that you had someone at your disposal who knew old Elven history. I thought maybe he could help me."

"You mean Solas?" said Cassandra.

I frowned. "I don't know that name. All I know is that I need help and I have nowhere else to turn."

Both humans exchanged glances. They seemed less cautious then before, but that did not mean that I had gained their favour.

"That still does not make your actions forgivable," said Cassandra.

"And you still believe I'm responsible for it," I muttered under my breath. "If Jaras was here, I'm sure-" I paused. "Where is Jaras?"

Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Who is Jaras?"

"My friend. He's elvhen," I said and touched the shell of my ear. "But he was the one who brought me here."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Ah, him. He is with the wounded, but will soon be brought into custody."

"Talk to him," I said. "He'll tell you that I'm innocent. He has evidence of what we found, of what caused this."

"Go and find this Jaras, Leliana. I'll talk to the Herald," said Cassandra. As Leliana left the chamber, Cassandra looked back. An expression crossed her face; impossible to decipher. "For your sake, you better be telling us the truth."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then you'll know about it."

...

"Worry fills her heart and mind - she covers it with a stone face and few words," whispered a solemn voice. "Darkness. Alone. What is this power? Why hasn't it killed me? He promised it would. Voices. Voices in the dark. A boy? A man? Confusion fills the void."

I looked above and around, but found no trace of the voice. "Hello?" I whispered in the slight hope that it was my imagination playing a cruel, cruel trick.

It was not.

"You're the cause for their suffering," it said again. The flames of the sconces flickered and the shadow of a man shivered across the ground. My gaze followed the shadow to the boots it was attached to and, slowly, I looked up.

It was a slim, motionless figure that the voice belonged to. He allowed part of his pale face and body to be shown, but the rest remained in the dark. "I hear them call," he continued. "Feel the burns they suffer. See the flashes of light before their eyes. Hunched. Pain. So much anger. Blasted knife-ear. Demand justice. Should never have let her in."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you... alright?"

The Voice nodded. "Yes. I believe so."

"How did you get in here?" I asked. There was no entrance apart from the one door and had not been used for hours.

"I walk within the shadows," he said. "Most don't see me. It wasn't difficult to get here."

"I see," I said, though I couldn't help but be surprised by the stranger's appearance. What he said made little sense to me, unless he came through the walls. I did not sense any magic from him, nor did I see a staff, but I did feel something. He was no ordinary man, that much I was sure. There was a connection to the Fade within him, but it was faint.

The Voice tilted his head to the side, as if studying me. "Was it your fault?"

I frowned. "Was what my fault?"

"The pain caused to the men."

"Oh." I shook my head. "No."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," I said and looked back at the ground. I had grown bored hours ago and had began to draw symbols into the dirt with my finger.

"You feel no remorse for them. No despair."

"Why should I? I don't know them." Before he could answer, I said, "Why are you here?"

The Voice lowered his head for a moment, as if thinking. "I don't know."

There was a sadness behind his answer, though I wasn't sure why. It almost made me feel for him. Almost. "Then leave, unless you're willing to help me out of these." I shook my arms. The chains clashed together.

The Voice looked at it thoughtfully. He waved his arms out and shook his head. "Cassandra would not be pleased if I did that."

"She wouldn't have to know."

"I can't."

I narrowed my gaze. "Then we have nothing further to discuss."

Footsteps began to lead away from me and over to the door. They slouched against the ground, but the sound ceased for a moment and the Voice spoke, "I am Cole. I didn't say that before," he said and waved his hand in goodbye.

I closed my eyes. When they opened, the stranger was gone; left without a trace.

I blinked, unsure of what had just happened.


	3. Decisions, Decisions

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Three: Decisions, Decisions

_'You childish fool. You cannot cut a tree just because it's in your way," _an old friend once said._ "Just because you're having a rough time doesn't mean you should take it out on the damned thing. Think. Use that keen mind of yours. Never make a decision without reason. Be patient. The storm will pass. You never know. The Gods may have taken care of that thing for you, saving you the trouble. Patience, after all, is how I've stayed sane all these years." _

I smiled at the words, but his voice and appearance remained clouded. Most of what I remembered were fragments of my friend's existence, but those fragments were what kept me sane in troubled times and some were clearer then others. It had been so long. It was no wonder some of my memories were lost to me.

Patience was simple enough, but after a day and a half of being trapped within the bowls of a fortress with only the scurrying of the rats for company, I began to need more than patience. I needed to get out.

As if my wishes had been granted, the door creaked open for the second time since I had been there. Through the light of the outside came the tall figure of the human woman, Cassandra, and behind the bulky forms of her guards with blades close to their fingertips. As she stepped through, the two men unlocked my restraints and roughly hauled me to my feet.

"You're coming with us," said Cassandra sternly.

The hold on me was tight. Even with a couple of rough tugs, neither of my arms were freed from the guards' clutches. "Changed your mind?"

"The Herald wishes to see you," she said and strolled out of the prison with her shoulders rolled back and head held high. I wondered how she could keep such a posture for so long without her back giving out.

_Was it a human thing? _I wondered.

"The Herald? Who is he?" I asked after I took a step out of the prison. It was lighter on the outside with tunnels that lead both left and right. To where, I wasn't sure.

Cassandra looked back. "You should know. You say you've heard of the Inquisition."

"I have," I said, "but there was never mention of a Herald, only an Inquisitor."

"It is the same man but with many titles. Come. We must go to the Keep. There you will be judged accordingly."

"Judged? You mean this Inquisitor decides my fate? Just like that?"

"That is what happens, yes."

"And is it just him?"

"Yes," she said. "But the trial will be performed in front of the general public."

I blinked. Her words slowly registered. "You're jesting, surely?"

Cassandra did not answer. Instead, she stepped back and guided the way through many narrow corridors, all long, dark and full of mystery. As we walked, I caught the glimmer of a room. The doorway was parted and inside were the leather bindings of old tomes and a large collection of dust that hadn't been touched in what seemed like years. The books were piled and stacked along their cases in tight, neat rows. They looked interesting.

"Did you speak to my friend?" I asked as we rounded a corner.

"Yes, we found him," replied Cassandra, but her next words were hesitant, as if she was in the middle of deciding what to tell me. "He told us a very interesting tale. I believe an ogre was involved."

I felt the beating of my heart falter at her words and stumbled forward. My foot had caught a chip in the stonework, but the guards caught me before I fell.

"Watch your blighted step, elf-" one of them began, but a dangerously dark scowl from Cassandra made his jaw go slack.

"I must have misheard you," I said after a glance between the two of them. "You said an ogre?"

"You did not mishear." Cassandra resumed her pace. The walls flashed as we passed the candlelight. "His tale was almost unbelievable."

"What did he say about the ogre, exactly?"

"I believe he said that the ogre had large fangs and long claws that could shred through a castle's defenses without fear of exhaustion."

_That didn't sound too unrealistic, _I thought. _I could work with that._

"And that it could manipulate fire with its breath alone."

I groaned. I should have known.

"He said that you were on your way to Skyhold when you happened upon the creature," Cassandra continued, unaware that I had lost faith in bothering to think of an excuse for it all. "It only took one arrow from your friend's quiver to kill the beast. Lodged in the eye, he said, and then it crashed into a mountain."

"That's a very... vivid tale," I admitted with a forced smile.

She nodded. "Yes, almost too vivid to believe. I particularly found the part when the ogre survived, rose from the grave and led an army of mabari into Fereldan to be the most interesting, though I have never heard of an ogre doing such a thing. It is even stranger that the ogre vanished into flames upon seeing your friend's return and disappeared before anyone could notice."

Jaras, you imaginative fool. "I… my friend is quite the storyteller."

"Yes, quite, like others I know, though their tales are at least believable. Your friend also said that we should reward your efforts against such a beast and that a trial was not necessary."

"Of course he would." I sighed. "But, there is a hole in the sky and there are dragons. Dragons. Why not believe in a fire-breathing ogre?"

She scoffed. "Because not even the Maker would believe that."

It was sad to say, but she had a point.

The passages underneath the Keep ended soon after. A narrow stairway was all that separated me from the trial. I licked my chapped lips and followed on, but made sure that if needed, I had an escape. The shackles may have restrained my magic against the metal itself, but I could still cast against those around me. Violence, however, was only to be used as a last precaution. I wanted to live, not risk a hanging.

The great doors of the Keep were pulled back and we arrived within the hall, filled with many peculiar-looking faces. Most were masked. Some of the women were dressed in thin bodices with large, bloated skirts that bumped anyone within their proximity, while men were adorned with skin-tight leggins, puffed collars and large bird feathers stitched to the back of flat hats. It was quite an amusing sight, especially with the shocked gasps and exaggerated accents.

"Oh, dreary me. What 'av we here?" one noble uttered aloud. She must have been Orlesian. "Bah, look at her outfit. She must have crawled out of the dirt with those stubby nails. She's _so_ filthy, and..." She crinkled her nose. At the sight of my approach, she reeled back whilst knocking those around her to the ground and quickly fanned herself with a dainty hand. "What is that awful smell? Is she contagious? Keep her away from me!"

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

The hall was vast, at least as big as a city market and was adorned with tapestries and banners depicting the Inquisition's sigil – a golden eye with long, thin spikes on all sides. The design closely resembled a star or sun with its colour. I had heard of human halls that vast but to see it for myself and with so many gawks was both interesting and nerving.

Statues of a human god towered either side of the hall and reached up to an arched roof. Wooden planks and poles stood near and across the top of the second floor where the Keep had yet to be improved on. Workers from above kept their gaze locked on the ground, probably interested in what was about to happen.

Sat against a pointed, rose coloured throne was a human. He had a long face with many scars; some pale, some not, and they were carved into the shallow lines across his forehead; thin cheeks and unshaven jaw. He had a straight edged, hawk-like nose and piercing amber eyes; intelligence and power shone behind their sharp focus and watched carefully as I was forced to kneel on the steps before him like some naive servant girl.

Whispers caught the noble humans like a tree close to a flame and quickly spread into a vicious wildfire. Their courage grew and grew as more people chanted their thoughts until they all were demanding blood: mine.

"Quiet, please," said who I supposed was the Inquisitor's adviser, though I wasn't too sure how human courts worked or their acts of justice. From what I had heard, it usually ended with a gibbet, or a couple of nights within a prison cell. I wasn't too sure though.

With a raise of a hand, the nobles fell silent and tension grew in the still air.

"We have no name for this woman, yet she is present for committing violent acts of magic against our own men. She was found in the courtyard when we heard the news. She pleads innocence and states that she came here for a reason. To seek help. From us," said the adviser.

The Inquisitor leaned forward, his fingertips pressed to his bloodless lips and he spoke loud and clear for all to hear. "Which clan are you from, elf?"

I let out a shaky breath and tried to stand, only to be pushed down by a strong hand. Light flashed before me as a blade's cold tip was pressed firmly against my throat.

The Inquisitor scowled at the action and ordered his men to lower their arms with a gesture.

Once free, I stood again, that time successfully, and took half a step closer to the throne.

"None," I said simply, but tried to keep the fear I felt at bay. There was need to show weakness.

The Inquisitor's brows rose in surprise. "None? You're from a clan, I'm sure. The markings on your face. That's used for your kind, yes? What happened?"

"I left."

Slowly, he leaned back in his seat and overlapped one leg with another. His fingers entwined. "Why did you?"

"That's none of your business."

The Inquisitor frowned but, thankfully, decided to change the subject. "You claim to be innocent, yet you seem rather well for someone who came out of a storm unfazed."

"I'm sure luck had more to do with it," I said.

The ghost of a smirk crossed his features, but it left before anyone noticed. "Isn't it all? Still, my men suffered. They lie wounded in my courtyard. It's a miracle none of them died."

"I've told your associates that it wasn't my fault," I said in my defense. "They've talked to Jaras. They know why I'm here."

"Jaras?"

Heavy steps hammered hard against the ground. Behind was Cassandra and in her grasp, Jaras, who followed quickly behind.

"I believe this is your man, Inquisitor," she said and threw him forward.

Jaras' steps were unsteady and he landed on one knee. He reached for his blades.

"Watch it, shemlen!" he warned and, after a glance between both her and her guards, reluctantly rested his arms against his side. "Some hospitality you have here. Always so kind to your guests?"

I rolled my eyes.

Jaras noticed my reaction and smirked. "Good to see you're on your feet, Da'mi [little blade]. Was starting to get worried."

I smiled. "Wouldn't want that, would we?"

"'Course not. Now, back to matters." He turned to the Inquisitor. His eyes widened and roamed the gold arm rests and handles of the throne. I could almost see the coins being counted inside of his head. Jaras shook himself from his thoughts and spread his arms wide dramatically. "Nice seat you have there. Bet it was worth a silver or two. Know where I can get a fancy chair like that, lad?"

The Inquisitor, surprisingly, smiled. "Get a magical mark that controls the skies and an army. The throne comes with itself."

Jaras smirked and crossed his arms. "That simple?"

"Of course not," the Inquisitor replied and flicked his hand to one side. "Now, are you going to talk, or just waste more of my time?"

My companion's face fell suddenly and became serious. "You know why we're here, lad."

The Inquisitor gave a brief nod. "Indeed. You came seeking my help. But after everything you've both done, why should I accept it?"

"Because you'd be an idiot not to?"

With my free arm, I nudged Jaras' ribs, hard. He coughed, mumbled a curse and shot a glare in my direction, but I kept my focus away from him and on the Inquisitor.

"You don't understand what's at stake-" I began, but the Inquisitor interrupted with a low chuckle.

"You have no idea how much I hear that. If you're so innocent, then enlighten me."

I leaned back, surprised by the harshness behind his reply. "Jaras," I said. "Have you still got the shard?"

Jaras nodded. "Aye. I do." He reached down into his satchel and unbuckled the straps of leather. A block of violet crystal was pulled out. The keen, pointed edge was kept flat against his hand for a tight grip would slice his palm clean open and draw blood. It had happened once before.

The glimmer of the shard's surface against the sunlight gained many of the crowd's attention, especially the Inquisitor's. Though, he was hesitant to approach it and remained in his seat with a slight hunch over the edge.

He drew his hand up to rest against his chin and tapped lightly. "What is it?"

"We don't know," I said but kept a fair distance from it. The memory of its touch still burned. "I touched this shard on the day this curse fell upon me. It cannot be broken by any weapon or magic."

"Trust me, we've tried," Jaras muttered under his breath.

"All we know is that it's elvhen. That's why we came here. We heard you had someone who knew a few things about this," I explained.

A curious expression crept upon the Inquisitor's face, one I couldn't quite place, and he allowed his gaze to rest on the shard for a long time before he spoke. "I still don't see why I should help you."

I swore I must have looked like an owl by the amount of times I blinked. Those humans were so confusing. "You know what happened to your men. The power? It came from this shard, and what happened was but a small fraction of its potential."

"There's more shards out there," added Jaras. "We weren't the first to get this, lad, and this is the smallest piece. The others probably have more power than this does and look how much it's affected us."

"You fight for justice, do you not?" I said. "The people with the other shards are dangerous men, Inquisitor, and once they know Jaras and I are here, they won't hesitate to come here."

The Inquisitor barked out a laugh and raised his arms high in a gesture to his hall. "Have you seen this place? This fortress is impenetrable. These men you talk about aren't my problem."

"They are just as dangerous as the Breach!" I yelled but fell to my knees when a jolt of pain shot through my arm. I could see the fine trace of a spark flash underneath my skin like a light within water. No. It would not get to me again.

Pressure was applied to the fabric of my back and when I looked up, I saw Jaras' worried gaze. I let out a heavy breath and shook my head. "I-I'll be fine."

"No, you won't," he whispered and wrapped his arms around me for support. "There's a village, North of Fereldan and high up in the hills," he said. "See what's happened there, if you care."

The Inquisitor frowned. "What did happen there?"

Jaras gave out a tired shrug. "A whole lot of shit, is what. A whole village burned because we stayed there for a night. The hunters following us are not like a band of thieves or bandits, lad. They're worse and if you don't trust anything else from what we've said, trust this. They know we're here and they'll kill you all just for knowing it."

Shocked gasps passed through the hall. The nobles turned to each other and began to chirp like a flock of unsettled pigeons.

"That's enough!" called the Inquisitor's adviser. She turned back to the Inquisitor, but there was uncertainty on her face. "What is your judgment, Inquisitor?"

He looked at me sideways, as though weighing something. The two lines between his brows became deep furrows. His pause was long, and his voice moved slowly and carefully as if a wrong word could bite. "We help, but I want information on this village," he said finally, but there was an edge that could not be missed. "You will stay. For now."


	4. The Elvhen Apostate

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Four: The Elvhen Apostate

Dawn.

The fury of the elements had passed during nightfall, but the onslaughts it dealt had been slow and brutal. Calmer winds and sunlight were able to take command of the sky once more and Skyhold was allowed to live mostly unscathed. As the cloud cover drifted away, mountains rose from the confines of white mist and pierced the clear heavens above. The very walls of Skyhold remained sturdy and thick, undeterred by the past weather save for the occasional crack or crumbled tower, buried under broken rock from the mountain's landslide. The walls guarded the whole of the fortress, from the marketplace, filled with the lives and tunes of many chanting merchants selling their fine wares, to the clanking and slashing of steel from the battle training in the lower courtyard. Even outside, the raising of tankards and joyful banter could be heard from within the tavern's open doors and the sharp sounds of shattering glass sounded from the high towers, were mages casted spells far from any civilian's prying eyes.

As Jaras and I explored the fortress and its stores, I began to notice that there were few children present there. Most people were elderly or of average age, and those that were children fled behind their mother's skirts upon the sight of us. The fear that shone behind their wild eyes and curled up fists made it seem as if I was a beast, a monster, come simply to scare them in the middle of the night or to trick them away from their mothers like the Dread Wolf, or so the old tales went. I supposed the fact that I was both an elf and a mage didn't help to ease their fear either.

_Steel yourself, Lahris, _I told myself. _The thoughts of humans does not matter. _

The sharp, cold daggers aimed at my back were to be expected. It was worrisome, though. That much fear could never end in something good.

The rise of the sun brought a pale light through the silver glass of the Keep's windows high up on the walls. The streaks of light pierced the ground with blended patterns and shapes, but those were quickly disturbed by other shadows as we walked.

Far from my mind were the solemn ramblings of Cassandra. Over the course of a night I had learned that she was a Seeker of Truth; an agent of the holy priestess known as a Divine in the religion the humans worshipped. The Inquisition was but a small stronghold made to battle a greater evil, she did explain, and that the Inquisitor was the only heroine that could preserve peace throughout Thedas. Honestly, I had little care for their beliefs and plight, or for her words.

"This is where you will be staying for the majority of your time," Cassandra said as her gaze drifted to the blankness of the walls in some sort of pride that I couldn't quite fathom. She halted close to one of the three arched doorways and crossed her arms firmly against her chest. "Skyhold is open to you, but let me be clear. This does not mean that you have free reign to do as you please. You will be watched. There are guards posted in every corner of Skyhold and rest assured that whatever you do, I will hear of it. So, better not get yourself into any trouble. Is that understood?"

I gave a short nod.

Jaras, however, did not. Instead, he stretched his twisted neck out to one side and then to the other. His gaze drifted back to the Inquisitor's throne as he did so. The clicks of his neck made me wince, but it was obvious when something between amusement and distrust plucked at his lips that he was up to mischief, once again. With a roll of his shoulder, he stretched the tangled muscles between his shoulder blades and casually rested a hand over his mouth, like he was going to stifle a yawn but instead, leaned closer to my ear. "Bet I can get out of here before any of these shemlens notice, Da'mi. But-" He looked back. His lips licked at the amount of coin I knew he thought of, and he inclined his head back to get a closer look at the throne, probably to see if there were anything else of value he had missed, such as a jewel or gem. "But by the look of that fancy throne, I wouldn't mind staying a while."

Cassandra cleared her throat. "I heard that."

"So, where are we going?" I asked in the hope of changing the subject.

Cassandra, though not entirely fooled, directed us to the closest doorway with a gesture. "Right this way." Her hand rested firmly on the doorknob, yet before it clicked, she looked back. "You said you were looking for someone who knew your history. I believe Solas is the best for this."

"Solas?"

"A mage," she explained, but there was a sense of distaste in her tone, "like yourself. It was he who found you in the courtyard and stopped you before you could do more damage. He also was the one who persuaded most of us not to kill you, including the Inquisitor."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "That's nice of him."

"Obviously he saw something in you that was worth some interest, otherwise you would not be here."

"If you're saying that I should feel indebted to him then you're surely mistaken," I said. "I owe no one. Not you and not this Solas. I'm here for my own reasons. That's all."

"Whichever you choose. You did come to us after all. We must be worth something to you."

"Yes," I said. "A means to an end."

The door swung back. A passage, much narrower and shorter than those underneath the Keep led to the space of an enclosed, dome-based room with walls flecked with dark plaster and rock. Groves stretched along to the ceiling like bark on an elder oak and a large painting lay etched into the back of one wall. It was of two black wolves sat howling towards the Inquisition's sigil. It was strange and not something I had ever seen before. Within the furthest reaches of the room lay abandoned sets of furniture covered in sheets with dust and holes in the fabric. They mustn't have been touched since they were first covered.

There was a quiet air to the place that felt homely and was different compared to the larger, more harsh areas of Skyhold that were simply there for display and praise from nobles.

A light mutter made my long ears twitch and flick and, as my gaze drifted, I caught a glimpse of the rugged structure of a long, trestle table. A thick candle sat against its edge and brightened the room's dimmest reaches while also illuminating the narrow face and pointed features that hovered above.

Fingers ghosted the tips of old tomes. Once read, each page was carefully turned, as if one faltered touch could turn it to dust. A grey tunic, draped over green breeches and tied back around the waist by a belt of leather strips was what the figure wore and, as he whispered the words on each page, his mouth turned sour, like a bad taste.

"No. This can't be right. Fenedhis!" the elvhen cursed. One scarred hand obscured the animal jaw tied around the base of his neck while the other roughly fell down his face. He let out a heavy sigh and scratched the back of his hairless scalp. His gaze flickered to the side, then adjusted when he realised our presence. "Oh. Forgive me. I did not see you there."

"Problem, Solas?" Cassandra asked sternly.

Solas glanced between the tome and her before he shook his head. "No. It was- ah. Never mind. It was nothing."

Cassandra eyed him narrowly. "Obviously."

The elvhen hesitated, but when he did speak, he merely sounded disappointed. "It was nothing, Seeker. You will find no secrets here."

"That has yet to be seen." Cassandra cocked her head to the side in a gesture to Jaras and I. "You already know who these two are."

The elvhen's gaze swept over Jaras pretty quickly. One look at his vallaslin, the blood markings on his face, and he knew that he was Dalish. My markings were narrower, shorter and not in such detail, and though I expected the same judgment, it wasn't. His eyes met mine for a heartbeat, piercing and inquiring, and there was another emotion there. Something that came to memory. It was... intrigue.

"Ah, I did not believe that you would survive the Inquisitor's judgment," said the elvhen, "but it seems I was mistaken. My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I allowed one hand to rest on my hip, while my other flicked to his chest. "I know you."

Jaras' head jerked up; his eyes were two silver plates of surprise. Both he and Solas spoke in unison. "You do?"

"Yes," I said. "You were in the courtyard. You're the one who shot me."

Jaras' throat tightened as he drew in a deep breath. What I said slowly dawned on him and he turned back to the other elf with little more than resentment. His arms reached back to his blades, but did not draw. "Huh. I wondered who caused that. You weren't asleep when I left you, Da'mi. So, it was you, lad?"

"I... yes, that is true." Solas sighed, but it was a tired sigh and not a reaction to being caught. "I had no choice. To allow your power to grow, the outcome may have been beyond imagining. I had to act. You have my apologies, if it accounts to anything."

My fingers twitched. "An apology? That's all? I still have marks from where you attacked me. I could have died!"

Solas frowned. "Not by my hand. Considering the circumstances-"

"Circumstances? You knew nothing about what was happening!"

"I had to act," he said. His lips became a fine line of disapproval. "What would have happened if I allowed your power to continue to build? How many lives would have been lost in the process? I-"

"That's enough!" Cassandra quickly placed herself between us. "You did not come here to argue."

"But-"

"I said that's enough! What Solas did was necessary. Remember, if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here having this discussion. He was the one who convinced the Inquisitor to give you a trial, so maybe you should be thanking him instead of arguing."

"I-" She was right. If what she said was true, then maybe he did what he did for a reason. I may not have liked the decision, but whatever he did kept me alive. That meant something. There were other matters to attend to anyway. Revenge could wait.

Reluctant, I dipped my head as a sign of an apology. "Forgive me. Mas seranas [thank you] for your help."

Solas nodded in turn. "That's quite alright. Now, I believe there's a reason for why you're here?"

"Yes. I've heard that you're the one to talk to about elvhen history."

"Ah, yes. You have come to the right place. I know quite a bit about elvhen culture, or at least their magical artifacts."

Jaras scoffed. "Oh, you do now, do you, lad?"

The easy smile melted from Solas' face. "I'm sure I just said that. Why? You don't?"

"Aye," Jaras replied gruffly. "We've been bounced from one scholar to another, and none have given us anything useful. Think you're different?"

"I assure you that I know more than those scholars. From the look alone, I know that the shard you carry is no ordinary magical artifact. It is dangerous and by the power created and the affect it had to your friend, neither can be a coincidence. Do you have it with you?"

Jaras reached into his satchel and pulled the shard from its confines. The thought of it alone sent a shiver through my bones.

Another smile tugged at the corners of Solas' lips. "Excellent."

"Is that what caused the destruction?" asked Cassandra.

Solas shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, Seeker. Give me some time."

At that answer, she gave a shallow nod and slowly turned back to the doorway. "I trust I can leave them in your care, Solas."

Solas spared a glance at the Seeker before he took a closer inspection of the shard. "I see no reason why not." He reached out, but Jaras kept the shard out of his reach.

"Good. Report to me on your progress."

It was not long before her form disappeared into the passage and the slam of the door met out ears.

Solas turned back to us with noticeable relief and laced his fingers over his stomach. "So, where to begin. I assume your arm is better."

That brief thought sparked a quick pain through my shoulder. Unconsciously, my fingers crawled into the fabric of the linen wraps and tugged. "Yes, I suppose, but..."

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "The power. You said that it stopped?"

"Yes. The moment you fell into unconsciousness, the power within you ceased, as if reacting to your subconscious, or emotion."

My fingers dropped. "But that doesn't explain why I'm still here. That power. I thought for sure that it was the end."

"As would most, given what you went through. I'm sure further study into this matter will bear more fruit and perhaps answer some of your questions."

It seemed that Solas really was who Jaras and I sought. He did more than most scholars and seemed interested in our predicament, though for what reason I wasn't sure. I supposed that was fortunate, but the day was still young, and I didn't want to risk getting my hopes up.

"Well, since we're going to be here a while," said Jaras as he carelessly flung the shard into my hands. "I might as well make myself comfortable." Without another word, he threw himself into the nearest chair, planted one leg firmly over the trestle table and buried his hands behind the hood near his neck. A long, drawn out yawn escaped him and the chair creaked as his weight shifted from one side to another until he settled into a comfortable position.

Solas openly stared at my companion in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing?"

One eye popped open. At the look on the elf's face, Jaras smirked. "Making myself at home, of course."

"I'd rather you didn't do that." Solas tugged the book from underneath Jaras' boot. His foot slapped the wood hard once it was removed.

"Too bad." Jaras shut his eyes.

I could see the retaliation in the elvhen's eyes and before he could do anything to trigger Jaras' less-than-happy mood, I touched his shoulder and motioned him back.

"You don't want to do that. Trust me," I said.

"You keep interesting company," Solas muttered before his attention returned to the shard. That same curious expression was back and he laid out his hand carefully, as if seeking approval. "May I see it?"

I hesitated but managed to gain enough courage to place it into his palm.

As if he sensed how much the shard was worth to me, he smiled and said, "Don't worry. You'll get this back."

"I better," I said quickly.

"You're not very trusting, are you?"

From the chair came the bark of a laugh. "You're not serious, lad," said Jaras. "Good luck trying to gain her trust. That's an endeavour that takes years to get. Years. And she only gives it to the handsomest and strongest of us elven folk, such as myself."

"Oh?" said Solas. "By the company she keeps, I thought it was the opposite. My mistake."

A cold expression quickly fell upon Jaras' face and yet, just as Solas began to visibly rethink his choice of words, another laugh bellowed throughout the room and a wide grin quickly spread across my companion's face. "Hah! Looks like the mage's got some balls after all! You, lad, aren't too bad. A little know-it-all and scrawny, but alright. You just need a little ale down you. Ale's good for the gut after all. But don't let anyone know I said this."

I looked between the two of them, unsure what to think, and simply shrugged. "As I was about to say, I make it a rule not to trust anyone. That shard, valuable or not, is mine. I can't lose it."

"Then it seems I will have company studying this, then," said Solas.

I smiled. "Couldn't have put it better myself."

With his attention focused, he turned back to the table, ignored the boot prints that Jaras had imprinted into the surface and began to flick through the tome he had. His fingers idly moved from one place to another with intent and purpose.

"You never mentioned your name," Solas said after some time. "I told you mine. It seems only right that I should know yours."

"Why do you want to know my name?" I asked curiously.

He looked up. "It's a simple enough question. I just thought that it'd make things easier. There's no need to tell me, if you don't want to."

I hesitated. Names could lead to trouble. Sure, most knew Jaras' name, but mine was different. It felt different. I was careful with who I met and with who I trusted. I supposed telling my name would fool the Inquisition into believing that I was a guest of theirs, an innocent and someone who misfortune happened upon.

Casually, my gaze drifted to Jaras for an opinion, but he had already fallen asleep. I wasn't surprised. That elvhen could sleep through anything. Even physically moving him wouldn't help. He was no help for anything.

After a moment of thought, probably longer than I should have been, I raised my head and forced a friendly smile. "Emma Lahris Elgar'shiral," I said. [I am Lahris...]

His fingers froze on their page. "Elgar'shiral?"

"It's what the Dalish called me," I said.

A quizzical expression was all there was and a slight furrow of his brows. "A strange thing that the Dalish would call you that," he said before he returned to his work as if nothing had happened. "Either way. A pleasure, Lahris."


	5. Disappearances

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Five: Disappearances

"_You._"

The young man slowly turned from the edge of the wall, yet his face remained hidden under the large tipped hat that didn't move despite the wind it caught underneath. His feet continued to drape over the side, left to lazily tap the stone with the edge of his heel.

"I know you," I continued and moved to take half a step forward, yet hesitated and instead stepped back. "You're the one from the prison. You found me there."

A small nod was all he gave before he returned to face the slight dip in the hill that merged with the area of grassland below the wall. It was quiet, so quiet that the rustle of the tree leaves and the passing flight of a bird was enough to draw any attention.

Cole hummed a quiet tune under his breath and stopped when the noise of clashing metal cut deep into the other sounds and took over. In the distance, not too far away yet far enough to squint was another human who was in the middle of a practice fight with a target dummy, alone.

"Are you... what are you doing here?"

"Watching," was Cole's answer, plain and simple.

"Watching what, exactly?"

An arm was raised and pointed to the fighter. It stayed there for some time and urged me to take a couple of steps over the wall's edge but not close enough to topple over.

"Oh. You're watching the Inquisitor. Why?"

His arm drifted to his side and he hung his shoulders low, as if defeated in some way. "I want to help. He doesn't like me near. Finds it hard to hear his thoughts. Prefers the quiet. Wants to forget."

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped. That didn't make much sense. "He needs help?"

"Fire. It melts skin like wax from a candle flame, ever burning, shimmering but it doesn't go out," Cole whispered so fast that it was almost misheard. "Back hurts. Arm aches. The pain, there always and then never, reappears and disappears but is it truly there? Darkness, the fires grow higher and higher, blocking out the sky, ever tangling, trapping, caging. No escape. The heated breath of black wings, so close upon the neck, jaws spread wide and teeth laid barred, and then- nothing. Eyes turn to me, worship me, but all I see is the power, etched into my skin like a tainted mural, span and sewn with innocent blood - and I like it." Cole fell into silence. It was as if he had returned to the state I had found him in moments ago. His stare on the Inquisitor was not faltered and the humming began again.

"Cole?"

He looked back casually, like the spell was broken and he had come back to reality. "Yes?"

"How-" I fumbled over my words, "did you-?"

"I hear things," he said. "See thoughts. It helps, sometimes."

"But he doesn't look like he needs help."

Just like that, Cole's face was back to the Inquisitor and that same possessed-like faze returned. "So much responsibility. Once weighed heavy on the heart. Now he doesn't care. Hates what he's become, but it's conflicting. One rope tugs one way, the other tugs another, but which will prevail? Which side will he choose?"

Something was wrong with Cole, or at least not normal. The way he sounded was like he was himself one moment, and someone else the next. Almost like... "This must sound insane but, can you understand people, more than others can? It's like you know what they're thinking, which has to be absurd, unless this mark I have has finally made me lose my mind. Maybe I should see Solas again."

Cole shook his head. "I can, sometimes. Sometimes it hurts, but hurting helps. I _need_ to help. Stop the suffering."

"You're a strange one."

Cole looked back and for once that day I saw his face, but the confusion there was funny, like a child who was told a naughty word and wasn't sure whether he heard it right, or knew what it meant. "A strange what-?"

I smiled. "Never mind. It sounds like he has regrets about what's happened to him, but it also sounds like he likes it, especially the power he has. I don't think the Inquisitor needs your or anyone's help."

"He does," Cole replied firmly and stretched his gaze south to the training dummies. "I know he does. He just won't let me."

The clashing of steel stopped as the Inquisitor stumbled back. His sword faded into the grass and his knees were soon rested on by his hands. An arm stretched out and wiped the sweat from his forehead, but stiffened and curved against the sunlight. He looked our way.

"Hey!" he called.

I blinked and looked down. By the Creators. Cole was gone.

"What'd you think you're doing up there, elf?" the Inquisitor yelled.

_How did Cole even disappear like that?_

Unsure of what to do, I did the only thing I could think of. Lie. "Oh, just seeing the sights."

The Inquisitor's frown told me he didn't believe it. Shame. It wasn't that bad of a lie. "Don't you have some rock to look into?"

I leaned back against the nearest tree and gestured over my shoulder with a thumb. "Don't _you_ have other duties to attend to other than hitting a stuffed man with a stick?"

If a scowl could kill, then the Inquisitor's would have, and then would've turned my body into dust to prove a point. It was so profound that the corners of his lips seemed to droop almost below the line of his jaw. He'd likely stamp on me too, just for fun. "Go," he said on the verge of a growl. "Away with you."

I scoffed. "You can't tell me what to do."

"In this fort, I can. Now go. Don't make me ask again. Damned elf."

I frowned, but decided to leave. There was no point in making my host even more livid towards me, though the thought did play through my mind and though bad, the expression on his face would have been something to pay for.

"He doesn't mean it."

I jumped back. My fingers dug into the bark of the tree as if it was the only thing that kept me up right. Cole was there, sat against the wall further then he was before with his face turned away.

"How did you even do that?" I almost screamed and untangled my fingers from the wood. The scratches from where my magic bound my nails was quite deep but with a flick of my wrist the magic disappeared into the air and specks of ice drifted to the ground.

Cole gave a small shrug. "I can be hard to see. Easier that way. Less pain, and anger."

"Yes, well, don't do that again. Almost scared me to death, you did."

It was then that Cole lifted his chin as if startled by my words. His hands flew up to his chest and his eyes went wide with concern. "I-I didn't mean to," he said so quickly that his words mixed together into an incomprehensible jumble. Only the last few words could be understood. "He doesn't want to see me. I helped him by hiding. I am sorry."

"Cole, it's okay. It doesn't matter," I said in an attempt to settle him. It did, sort of. His panicking ceased and his shoulders folded in on themselves once again.

"Alright," he whispered, "alright." He continued to stare at where the Inquisitor had been before he had disappeared into one of the towers.

When the sun met the center of the sky and settled behind the Keep, I knew it was time to leave. I needed to get back to Jaras and Solas. It was only supposed to be a momentary break from the studying and not over an hour.

"I better get going, Cole. It was interesting," I said and took my leave.

It was only when I was a few feet away that Cole spoke. "He needs to change," he had said and then returned to look down at his fingers laid flat out in his lap. His fingers curled in on themselves and then out. His hat dipped. "He must change. I don't like him when he's angry."

I wasn't sure why but I was thankful to be back within the warmth of Skyhold's keep. Of course, it meant that I had to return to the room where both elvhen were most likely at each other's throats. It had only been a day since Jaras and I met Solas and though Solas had many ideas on what the shard could have been, he was no closer to the answer than we were.

As I approached the door to Solas' study, a low grunt sprang from the table closest to the hall's hearth and there, sat back with a mug in hand, was a dwarf, but not just any dwarf. He was a dwarf that was dressed as fancy as any of the nobles, except for the Orlesians, and with a large amount of chest hair on show.

"Hey," the dwarf said as he motioned me closer to the table. "You were just talking to that kid, right?"

Hesitant, I kept quite a distance away from the dwarf but allowed my hands to rest against the table's edge. "Who? You mean Cole?"

"Yeah, that's him." He glanced down at his mug, swirled the contents about and took a long swig. The mug was soon slammed down. Ale dripped from the brim and dyed the surface of the table in brown and black. The dwarf let out a tired sigh. "I know you probably have no idea who I am or what I do and, I'll probably sound like some mother hen for saying this but, is there anything he said that sounded... off to you?"

"A part from everything he said?" I asked.

Surprisingly, the dwarf chuckled quietly and reached for the mug again. "Well yeah, a part from that. We haven't spoken recently and I'm just- ah, forget it. Don't mind me. I worry for him is all."

"Are you his father or-?" I stopped.

The dwarf chuckled again and shook his head. "Have you seen many dwarf men harbouring human kids? Oh, how I would love to see the faces in Orzammar after hearing that! The expressions there would be priceless." He leaned back in his seat. "But no. Me? I'm just a friend."

After another long swig, the dwarf looked up. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes and a small smirk crossed his stubble. "Say, you're the one from that trial, right?"

I frowned. "What?"

"That trial that went on. Whole Keep's been talking about it. A couple of elves wander into Skyhold, turn the place upside down and gets away with it. Hah. It's not something just anyone can get away with, you know."

"What's your point?"

"Oh, I haven't got one yet," said the dwarf. "Just thought I'd meet the local gossip around here, see if the rumours were true. The name's Varric. Shooting fools is my specialty, but I'm also known as a rogue, storyteller and occasional-"

"Mother hen?"

"Hah, yeah, I guess you could say that. I was going to say businessman, but that sounds more apt right about now. It'd be one of my more embellishing titles that I've gained over the years, but I think I might let that one slide."

I smiled and glanced back to the doorway. "Yes, well, it's been interesting, Varric, but I must go."

He gave a small nod. "Back to see Chuckles then?"

"Chuckles?"

"The elf."

"Which one?"

"The bald one."

I couldn't help but smile. "You mean Solas."

Varric leaned forward in his seat and pushed the mug to one side with a thick backhand. "Hey, just before you go. Maybe you could come down to the tavern sometime. We could play a game of wicked grace, get to know some people, that is if you're staying a while? Oh, and I've heard about that friend of yours. What's his name? Jaras? Heard he's quite the storyteller."

"He hasn't told anyone more stories, has he?" I blurted out without realising.

The dwarf smiled a faint, half curve of his lips, sat back and formed a steeple beneath his chin with his hands. "What, you mean the one with ogres taking over Thedas with an army of mabari hounds? Oh no. Never heard that one."

I groaned. "I don't even know why he bothers. No one takes those seriously. You're a storyteller, yes? Maybe you can help him."

"Lady, that boy is gonna need more than help to make any story make sense, but lucky for you, I have time."

"It'd be kinder on the ears not having to listen to such wild tales," I said and began to wander back. "It was nice to meet you, master dwarf."

"You too, lady. And uh, don't tell Cole I asked about him, alright? Wouldn't want him thinking I'm checking up on him or anything."

"If that's what you want, Varric." I bowed the dwarf goodbye and headed into the study.


	6. Of Shards and Fade

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Six: Of Shards and Fade

I hated not knowing things. It made me feel powerless, useless even and without control over the simplest of things. Sometimes it was maddening just to think about. The day that thunder rumbled through the ground, similar to the bounded steps of an oncoming herd, unrelenting and murderous in its approach, was when things had changed completely. To have seen the very first sparks of green and golden waves as they drained the sky, once shrouded in grey cloud, was when I truly felt a fear I had long forgotten and never wanted to be reminded of.

The Veil between the worlds of Thedas and the Fade was torn. Flares of light appeared out over the snow-covered mountains, down the hillsides and even over the vastest of oceans. The Dalish elvhen did not react. The clan I had stayed with simply watched as the plains of grassland that surrounded their forests hissed and shivered. The husks of stone that had fallen from the sky had cracked and creatures, gaunt and thin, tall and deformed that could have only existed in the Fade crawled out like spiders through the smallest of crevices. Their arms reached up as if to touch the light for the first time, and by their rage, it seemed they didn't want to give it up.

They multiplied and grew until they took over the outskirts of the woodlands and drove the elvhen deeper into the forests were even the light of day didn't dare reach. It was then that the pain returned. It was then that the scars branched out, to claim more of my skin that had yet to be touched. I knew I needed help; needed to seek it from others other than the clan. The Inquisition, after sometime, was my only hope.

And there I was, in a study with only an elvhen apostate for help. The Inquisition used their resources for the tears in the sky and only the simplest of items were at my disposal. Yet despite that, it was what was in me that concerned me. The power within me for some reason had withered slightly. It was still there. It gnawed at the back of my mind like a lost thought and took more of my mind when alone, but for it not to be constant was strange. It was like the time before the breach when it was contained. I could breathe without fear of the power growing. To have that was something.

It had been many days since there was any news of the shard. Tomes were brought to and from the Inquisition's private library and time and time again tomes were opened, sought through and discarded. Book after book was piled high above the tables and chairs until they towered the chairs themselves. Not even the table could be seen through the thick lot, yet Solas managed to seek through each one with ease, like he knew every individual scroll and parchment, page and bind.

Because of my decisions, I was left to stay with him while he studied the shard. I, after all, was unwilling to let it leave my sight, which after a couple of hours felt stupid. All it caused was long hours of prolonged silence between myself and the mage and even then with the amount of books there were the time went by slowly.

Jaras had decided long before that he would return when there was actual news and, since there was none, he was away most of the time, most likely in the tavern or searching Skyhold for any valuables. How I envied him.

As the long moments drew into even longer hours and the wax of the candles had begun to melt, I decided to wander from my seat at the back of the study and unconsciously ghosted my fingertips over the study table's edge. Solas was too busy with his own thoughts to notice and added yet another tome amongst the growing collection.

How strange he was. He never spoke unless it was of importance, or to see if I was still there with him. He easily engrossed himself into his research, like the mystery of the shard was a challenge for him, one he had to accomplish. Maybe, for him, it was a personal challenge, or an escape from the world.

My fingers halted, twitched and flicked at the sight of a book on the table's side set apart from the others. How odd.

"Tales of the Fade?" I whispered as I took hold of it. It was old, that much was for certain with scratches and groves cut into the torn bind and cover. "What's this doing here?"

"Ah, that one is mine," Solas said and moved over to my side. He reached out. I pulled back.

"You read about the Fade?" I asked curiously and casually flicked through several of the pages. My gaze drifted from the blocks of writing to the diagrams neatly-drawn out at the end of the paper.

After another failed attempt, Solas took a step back and slowly folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, I do more than read. I live it."

I glanced up but was surprised to find a smirk playing across his lips. _Amusement?_ "You live it?"

"Yes. I know how it must sound, especially to one of the Dalish."

"I'm not Dalish."

"You're not?" he asked. The amusement quickly faded and was replaced by a curious expression. "Forgive my assumptions but I thought- because of your vallaslin, your markings that you were one of them. I didn't mean to presume."

I smiled. "It's alright. If I was upset with everyone who mistook me for the Dalish elvhen, I'd have no friends."

He, too, smiled. "Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if the humans did so."

"Humans, dwarfs and even city elves, but it's alright. I wouldn't be surprised if the Creators themselves mistook me for one. You kind of get used to it, or at least I have. So, what do you mean by live?"

"Well what I meant by 'live' is up for debate I admit, but what I do is very similar to it. When I dream, I go deep into the Fade and see memories laid forgotten for many centuries. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen. They are truly remarkable."

I frowned. "You go into the Fade? Willingly? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Yes, but isn't any place? The Fade is steeped in mystery and while there are dangers, I have learned to overcome them."

That didn't sound right. The Fade was a place of demons and not often ventured in, not even by the Dalish who valued magic above all else. He was either mad or just plain foolish. Probably mad. "I don't understand what can be so interesting to go there. It's a place for demons and nothing good happens there."

"Ah, yes. Demons." Solas sneered at the word like it brought with it a foul smell or a bad taste that couldn't help but linger. "Tell me, how broad is your knowledge on the spirits of the Fade? Are all monsters simply there to possess the living? Must all be shunned and none seen as benevolent?"

"I believe what others believe, that it's dangerous," I said carefully. There was no need to upset the poor mage. "There are demons there."

"And there are also spirits that mean no more harm than a rock is to a river. Spirits like compassion, wisdom, courage-"

I quickly raised my hands. "I don't know much on the Fade, Solas. It's not like I'm an expert in the field. I'd rather not get into an argument about it."

"I- yes, of course," he said dryly and turned back to the tower of books. He grabbed the nearest one, fell back into his seat and buried himself through the flipped pages. When he did speak, he did not acknowledge me and instead, with a soft sigh, raised the book higher to hide his face. "Perhaps we should return to our duties."

I swallowed thickly. My throat for some reason felt dry and sore. I didn't mean to be harsh or say anything wrong. The Fade was a dangerous place, one that people feared with good reason. I may not have known much about it, but even I knew what could happen if something went wrong while in there. Possession and loss of one's body were not the only dangers.

For a while we were quiet, preoccupied with our own thoughts. The crackling of the fire was the only sound between us and even with his face partly covered I could tell that he was upset, still frowning away without a word, yet as the moments drew longer, I found my curiosity nagging at the back of my mind until it finally won, as it usually did.

"Is that all you do?" I asked after a small pause. "Find memories?"

Solas slowly looked up from his research, notably surprised by my curiosity it seemed. "A lot can be learned from witnessing past events," he said. "I've seen the most ancient of ruins and battlefields, attracted by spirits that over time have pressed heavily against the Veil, the barrier between our worlds. I have witnessed the loss of great civilizations and watched hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloodiest of battles in ancient wars, both known and forgotten. It is my hope from this that I'll find some trace of your artifact, the shard, but it is... difficult."

"Difficult, how?"

He stood. "The Fade is made up of individual interpretations, thoughts and opinions of all those that were to witness a specific event. While all truths, some may be exaggerated or simply there from words spread by others. The Fade is also much larger than it first seems. Endless, some might say. Still, I had hoped to find even the smallest of traces, but so far, I have found none. This shard of yours remains a mystery."

"Not surprising," I whispered. "But you said ruins and battlefields. Are these from the past? Can they be seen anywhere? Even here?"

"It is more complicated than that," he admitted. "Each place has its own story, but all places are different and it is important to journey to different places in order to see new things."

"Like hearing something from a friend, but only truly knowing it when you see if for yourself?"

"Yes, in a way."

My gaze drifted to the Fade book. He probably knew every word in it from back to front. I gently handed it back to him. "That... is quite interesting."

With the book in hand, Solas rested his palm protectively over the edge, gazed at it as if it had some sort of value only he knew and then quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I didn't know that was possible, to be honest. Going so far into the Fade and coming back alive, or not being possessed for that matter. It's amazing, to tell the truth."

Solas flickered his blue eyes over mine briefly, like he was uncertain if what I said was true, before he allowed himself to show a slight smile and slipped the tome back onto the table, nearly in the exact same place that it was before. "Really? You believe so? Huh. Not many share the same views you do. Most believe it foolish. You can understand why the field is not common. It's not as impressive as some other areas of magic like throwing fire balls, but I am glad you are not one of them."

"Oh, I never said it wasn't foolish," I said. "But, if what you're telling me is true then seeing such sights might be worth it."

"Have I given you cause to doubt me?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, but like I said, I make it a rule not to trust anyone."

"Ah yes, now I remember." He moved to return to his work but his steps faltered and his focus found its way to the shard. "Huh."

"Is everything alright?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," he said and, after a momentary pause, nudged the shard my way.

I stepped back.

"You're afraid of this," he stated, the curious expression returned.

I narrowed my eyes. "Not afraid, but cautious."

"Why?"

"I just don't like to go near it, that is unless I have to."

"You held it perfectly yesterday."

"I had gloves on," I argued and took another step back, just far enough so it wasn't in a close enough proximity for it to be a problem. "I couldn't _feel_ it and it wasn't for long. I mostly try to stay away from it if I can. I was warned that going near it could be dangerous. That's why Jaras always kept it safe."

"By who?"

"One of the Dalish," I said. "The Keeper of the Dalish, actually."

Solas frowned. "I thought you said you weren't one of them."

I smiled wryly. "I'm not but I spent a while with one clan. That was in a better time. Anyway, the Keeper said to keep it away, or only touch it if I must, but with gloves. If I didn't then-"

"Then what?" he asked and took a step forward.

I took one back in return and felt the coldness of the wall press against my back. "He... you don't want to know. It's better for me to stay away and that's all I'll say about it."

Solas, after a brief look, took hold of the shard with his palms rested underneath and carefully brought it over. His movements were slow and not sudden, as if to show me exactly what he was doing. When the shard was too close for comfort, he withdrew it, then tried again. "How odd. Can you not feel it?"

"Feel what?" I asked, but kept my attention fixed on the shard. The light that reflected off it made me uneasy.

"The magic inside," he said like it was obvious. A thought must have crossed his mind because he looked me trustingly. "I have an idea, but I will need your help, providing you trust me."

A shot of panic ran down my spine. I didn't like the sound of that. "I told you before that I don't trust anyone."

"Yes, I know, but this might help me get a better understanding of what this artifact is. I won't make you do this, but it may help. You're safe here. You know that. Nothing will happen. And if anything does go wrong, I will end it before harm falls upon you. Do you think you can do this?"

"That depends. What is it?"

With a small yet reassuring smile, Solas placed the shard back on the table and gestured me closer with an outstretched hand. "I want you to place your hand relatively close to the shard. You don't have to touch it, but keep it close."

"But my gloves-"

"You won't need them."

For some reason, I felt the pit of my stomach churn at the mere look of the shard. There was something strange about it, something that made me uneasy; like the world would fade around me and that it would swallow me whole after one wrong touch. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Pressure was applied to my back and, without knowing, it nudged me forward. My hand leaned in, forced to stretch and hover over the shard. It was almost close enough to feel it.

The elvhen's voice turned low and smooth in an attempt to sound persuasive. "Couldn't hurt to test it, surely."

The instinct to lash out and argue was strong, but curiosity stayed my hand. _Why was I so afraid? _It wasn't like I had never touched it before and I hadn't died like I was told. I was alive and the shard was weaker than it was originally. Perhaps the worry was for nothing, or maybe it was from force of habit. _  
><em>  
>I tried to swallow my fear, to convince myself that nothing would happen, but the panic was more than a flicker of doubt and almost took control. Almost. "I- if this goes wrong, I swear-"<p>

"It won't," he reassured too confidently.

_Of course he was confident, _I thought. _It wasn't his life at risk. Damn it. Shouldn't have come to Skyhold in the first place._

"Now, hold out your hand."

I did, but it wasn't a steady hand. It shook, from out of fear or uncertainty or even both wasn't clear. I shouldn't have been afraid of such a thing. It was so small, almost as fragile as glass, but it wasn't. I knew it wasn't. It was so much more than that. If it wasn't, I never would have touched it in the first place. I never would have risked the position I was in.

My eyes closed. All that could be felt was the emptiness of the air and yet my fingers twitched at the mere thought of what they could scrape. A hand touched mine, cold and rough, and carefully nudged it down. The air was cold at first. Then warmth I recognised all too well spread through my fingers, up the veins of my arm and through my chest. It tightened and pulled like a strong tug from an even stronger hand and then, once my breathing faltered, it withdrew and swept over to my heart. It seemed to soothe its erratic rhythm, almost forcing me to breathe and calm down.

I didn't like it. It wasn't _me_. I wasn't controlling it. It was another force. _The power, perhaps?_

"Do you hear that?" I quietly asked. Sounds both quiet and low seemed to echo through my mind. It was a strange sound, like chimes that clinked together through the gentle breeze of the wind or the rim of a glass when circled lightly with the tip of one's finger. It was calming, soothing even.

"Yes," came Solas' voice and, just like that, the sound was gone. "It is the magic communicating with its original source."

I opened my eyes and pulled back.

"How very strange," Solas added softly when the contact was lost. The base of his face glowed in the light the shard had created, but that was before the colour had ebbed away and left only the violet surface of a glassy frame.

"Strange?" I asked.

"The shard. When you were away, it felt weakened, distant, like its life source had nearly disappeared. There was no spark, per say. No energy, nor magic. It was as dull as the rock it presents and now- hmm. I wonder."

The elvhen mage rested his arms out and enclosed his palms tightly together. His eyes flickered shut and his mouth began to mumble words in hushed tones that not even I could hear. Green light absorbed his hands like fire. Wisps of flames glided up in thick strands and the room became a hall of flickering shadows from the effect. I watched carefully as the light grew more intense and lit every part of the study until-

I lunged forward. My hands pushed the elvhen mage back and I felt the first thrums of magic flow between my fingertips and chill my palm with the early stages of an ice spell.

Solas fell back. His hands reached out and clenched around the arm rests of a chair. With both hands steadying him, he looked up. "My apologies. Are you alright?"

"What did you just do?" I hissed, but not out of anger for what he did, but for what I had done. I didn't do that, at least not willingly.

"I merely casted a minor spell upon the shard," he said as he regained his footing and straightened out his back. "No damage was done, of course, but the results are interesting."

"Results? What results?" My voice echoed loudly off the walls of the study as it grew more urgent. The crows, hung from the tower's loft above rustled and cried in reply.

"You came to the shard's aid," he explained slowly. His hands were raised in a friendly yet cautious gesture. "Whatever happened, it sought protection. From you. You reacted."

I wanted to shake my head, to refuse. All that I could muster, however, was a hoarse cough before I spoke, "But I... I didn't do..."

"You weren't in control?"

Wordless, I shook my head.

"Maybe this is why you're cautious around it. You're connected to it, quite strongly in fact. Maybe you subconsciously knew this and wanted to be separated. You fear the control it has over you. The question is how this came to be, and why."

He was right. He had to be. There was no other reason for why I moved without free will. I didn't even know what I was doing. It just happened like instinct; as instinct. "You- just don't do that again!"

"It needed to be done," he said and the crease between his eyes deepened as his brows pulled together.

"You should have told me."

"And then you'd have refused, or the experiment wouldn't have had the same affect. Nothing happened, at least in the physical sense. You remain intact and no worse for wear."

"Why you-" I began but ended in a frustrated groan. My hands pushed me from the table and, while careful not to knock any of the books in the process, I hurried over to the farthest corner of the room and took in a deep breath. The room suddenly felt too small despite its size.

It was alright, though. I just needed to calm down. Curse that elvhen. He shouldn't have done that.

I wasn't sure how long I was quiet but my thoughts were interrupted by the dwarf in the doorway.

"Everything alright?" Varric's voice came through. "Ah, uh, have I caught you guys at a bad time?"

Solas turned from his stack of papers and slightly bowed his head in greeting. "No, you haven't, child of the stone. Can I be of assistance?"

Varric, after a quick glance at the both of us, gestured over his shoulder with a curved, stumpy thumb. "Just thought I'd give you a heads up. Grumpy's coming with the Seeker. He's not looking too friendly either."

Solas quickly frowned. "The Inquisitor? Now? Why?"

Varric shrugged. "Beats me but you'd probably want to get ready, Chuckles. Should be quite interesting."

"Yes, I suppose. Thank you, Varric."

The dwarf smiled a faint, half curve of his lips. "Hey, it's what I do. Bringer of bad news and all that."

"I suppose you're not too fond of the Inquisitor either, then?" I asked as I wandered away from my place and back to the table.

"Not fondly no," said Solas.

Varric hesitated, most likely from careful thought on what to say. "He's alright once he's got a few drinks down him. Just a bit strict when it comes to his job, not that I can blame him. Maker knows I wouldn't want to be in his place. That's responsibility I don't need."

"Yes, being in charge of a large fort with many loyal servants must be real hard for him," I muttered sarcastically.

"Hey now, you don't know what he's been through," said Varric. "To have seen what he's seen and survive like that is little short of a miracle. I don't condone his behaviour but, what can we do? World's gone to shit."

_'It wasn't always like this,'_ I wanted to say. Things used to be so much easier.

We listened intently as we heard the footsteps echo through the corridor and into the study. Our visitors weren't far away. While Varric continued to lean against the doorframe and Solas merely sorted his sheets of parchment and tomes out into suitable order, I simply waited with crossed arms for the serious faces that I knew would make an appearance.

Their strides were fast and purposeful. The Inquisitor was the first to enter, followed by the Seeker Cassandra. Neither looked particularly pleased to see me there. Ironic really because the feeling was mutual.

"Elf," was the first word the Inquisitor uttered and I doubted he meant Solas. "Weren't there another round here? What was his name? Jack? John? Jared?"

"Jaras," I corrected.

The Inquisitor merely nodded. "Yeah, him."

"I'm not his mother, Inquisitor. Surely your guards would know where he is."

"Ugh. Why does everyone expect me to know everything around here? Am I some oracle or something? Look, you know what, it doesn't matter. He'll turn up sooner or later, I'm sure."

"I am sure that I can find him if he is important in this discussion," said Cassandra from the Inquisitor's side.

The Inquisitor, after some thought, shook his head. "No. He'd be useless anyway." His focus shifted to me. "You're the leader of your little group, anyway. You're the only one of use."

I frowned. "Leader? I'm no leader."

"Of course you are. Don't mock me. That friend of yours follows you around like some lost pup. You'd have to be blind not to notice."

"Inquisitor, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Solas asked, probably in the hope of trying to change the subject.

The Inquisitor looked back at Solas, tightened the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat. "How's the research on the rock coming along?"

"Slowly, but we've managed to find out a few things."

"Hmm. Not good enough. You're going to have to try harder or else give this up."

The elvhen's thin brows rose in an incredulous stare. "You want me to end this, when I've only just begun?"

The Inquisitor did not answer. Instead he turned his attention to me. "I've had my spymaster look into that village of yours, elf. The one your friend told us about."

I inclined my head. "You did? What did you find?"

"A ruin, that's what."

I tried to hide the smug smirk I knew would eventually appear, but it was difficult. "Told you so."

"Yes," he said in a voice less like ice and more human. Again, his throat was cleared and collar pulled. "It seems I was wrong. Apologies for that."

I blinked. I was sure I had misheard. "You apologise? That's a surprise, to tell the truth. Thought you were too high and mighty for that."

"Yes, quite," Cassandra agreed.

The Inquisitor looked between us all. His thick brows slowly rose. "What? I'm always civil. It's one of my most charming qualities. But that still doesn't mean I trust you, elf."

"And just like that, we were back to being serious," chuckled Varric from the doorway. "To think, I thought we were all getting along."

"Sorry to disappoint," said the Inquisitor. "How much longer are you going to need for this, mage? We need to get back to focusing on the breach."

Solas pointed to the shard with his hand and then at the papers he had piled together. "Things like this take time. We've only just began to unravel the mysteries that this artifact has."

" Time we don't have."

"Inquisitor, if you would just let me-"

"You're taking too long!" His voice once again became as cold as stone. "We've got bigger threats to take care of, or have you forgotten?"

Just like that, Solas' face hardened. His lips became a thin line. "I assure you, I have not forgotten, but maybe this can help our cause-"

Abruptly, the Inquisitor's hand was raised and Solas surprisingly fell quiet. "Varric, know any contacts that know anything about rocks?" he asked.

Varric cocked his head to the side. "Uh, rocks, Inquisitor?"

"Yes. You know, the things that come from the ground, mountains? Hard to touch and all that."

"I_ know_ what rocks are. Just wondering why you're asking about it."

"Isn't it obvious? This thing, rock, shard, whatever you want to call it, is not what the mage thinks it is, meaning it's something else. Could be a lyrium shard. It has the same shape."

"Well, I guess. I could try to find a few contacts down in Orzammar. Might know a guy there."

"Good. Send word to him at once."

"You honestly think this shard is a rock?" Solas said in surprise. "It has magical properties. It can't just be a stone!"

"I don't see why not," said the Inquisitor. "Could be a magical stone. I'm giving you help on this, mage. If nothing comes of this, then it's just a waste of time."

The study went quiet. Everything that had been said was said. It was obvious that there was nothing more. Knowing that, the Inquisitor turned to take his leave.

"Inquisitor," I called out.

He looked back sharply. The heels of his boots cut into the dirt. "What now?"

"Did your spymaster find anything else within the village? Anything unusual?" I inquired.

With a glance to Cassandra, he drew his arms up to form a steeple under his chin. "Like what?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

"They found a body," he said. "Leliana said it belonged to a member of the Poisonswords, but whoever they are or where, they're gone now, at least from that region."

"That's the mercenary company you and your friend worked for, correct?" asked Cassandra.

I slowly nodded.

"We will need to contact them. They'll most likely want to know about your disappearance."

"No," I said. "You don't want to do that."

"Why not?" she asked.

I hesitated. "Because they never cared for their workers. For them to believe that I'm dead is the best thing for everyone."

Cassandra, though seemingly reluctant, nodded. "If that's your wish."

"It is," I said and looked to the Inquisitor. "Also, one more thing."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "And what may that be?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You probably won't listen to this but, keep your eye out. That village wasn't destroyed naturally."

Surprisingly, he began to smile, but it quickly shifted into a one sided smirk. "Ah, yes, these boogey men of yours. And who are these people supposedly after you, hmm? What do they want?"

"For that, dear Inquisitor, I cannot tell you."

His lips fell. "Why not? What aren't you telling me, elf?"

"Just remember this. The least you know the better."

Unsure of what that meant exactly, the Inquisitor turned and left. The door slammed heavily behind.

Varric was the first to break the silence. "Well, that went better than expected."

"What did you expect?" I asked.

"The usual. Arguments, shouting. More arguments. Seems he was having a good day."

I wouldn't want to have seen him on a bad day.

"What did you mean? When you said 'the least you know the better?'" asked Solas almost suddenly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said as I returned to the stacks of tomes.

Solas quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, you did. I remember you saying it."

"Maybe you thought I said that. I didn't."

As Solas opened his mouth to speak, Varric interrupted. "Leave it be, Chuckles. No need to pry." He looked back over his shoulder. "Well, time for me to go."

"Goodbye, Varric," I said as he walked away.

Quietness stretched out between Solas and I. The memories of the shard and what he had done still lingered, but I could not blame him. It did gain results and was part of the reason why I was there in the first place. I needed answers, even if those answers were hard to get.

"You seem to be one of many secrets," Solas pointed out as he sat back in his seat.

I bit my lip. "I'm not obliged to answer that," I said with a forced smile and returned to my seat at the back of the study.

How right he was, though, but I couldn't let anyone know.

Some secrets were better left unsaid.


	7. A Fair Tale

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Seven: A Fair Tale

"I hate it here," the speaker - Jaras had said with his mouth and chin dipped under the iron rim of a stained and scarred tankard that had chips missing from the bottom. A mixture of ale and rum trickled down the confines of his chin, throat and around the handle his rough fingers held in an iron grip.

I glanced down at the dark reflection of a dark face and black hair in my glass, hidden under the light of a sconce and blended with the lighter shades of wine and water. My hand was fast. The alcohol was quickly gulped down and took effect - burning the lower part of my throat like a slow fire, but it was worth it. "What about it don't you like?"

"The walls. Shemlen. The way they give us looks, like we don't belong here." He eyed the lack of contents in his hand and flicked his wrist. Ale was poured and that too was lost without another thought.

"We don't belong here," I said.

"I know that, and they know that, but they don't have to keep reminding me of it." The tankard clanged hard against the table's surface. The sound bounced off the tavern's walls and high up to the third floor were the unsteady snores of drunkards were disturbed, but quickly settled. The chatter behind had hushed and the curious gaze of the humans felt like an itch one could not scratch, though it soon perked up once more tankards were set upon crowded tables and the bard began to play her mellow tune. The song, I believed, was called Once We Were, but it wasn't one I knew by heart, only one that I had heard once or twice in a late evening spent alone.

"Was starting to get used to it here," he added, almost sadly, "but then you hear the whispers behind the walls and sometimes in front of my very face! The nerve. Bah. We shouldn't have come here."

"You didn't have to come along," I said. "You could have stayed at na arla, your home."

"What? Cleanin' halla shit and listenin' to the songs they sing every bloody night? No thanks. Might not like it here but I don't want to go back home either. There's only so much one can take of my lethallin, even if they are kin."

I smiled. "Nonsense. The clan's singing wasn't so bad. I remember when you'd join in, once you had enough ale in you."

A smirk grew wide against his face and he leaned one elbow behind his chair while another draped across his lap. Both legs were drawn across the table with the boots kicked off. "Yeah. That was usually after a few of the clansman and I had robbed a merchant's ale kegs. Ah, what a night they'd be."

"I swear, the humans probably thought those old tales about the Dalish were true with all the noise you would make."

Jaras shrugged. "Served 'em right, believing such superstitious nonsense."

"That superstitious nonsense is what kept the humans off your tail. Be grateful they're there, even if most are stupid."

"Hah. You know, I remember a time when a couple of the lads and I went out hunting one night-"

I held my hand up, already knowing what tale he had in mind. "Not this tale again."

"No, no this is different, I swear it. Want to hear?"

I glanced around the tavern. It was only then that I noticed the smell of berries, lichor and smoke. Fires burned in the central hearth of the high-beamed room and cast shadows across the drumming floorboards. "Alright," I said as I leaned forward and drew my arms underneath. "I have time. Dirth ma, tell me."

His sly smirk only grew as he raised his tankard up and brought a spare hand to scratch his jaw in thought. "Good. So, where to begin? It was a long time ago. Long before you arrived. Several of the lads and I were out and about doing our usual hunting strategies, you know looking for hares, gathering herbs and all that. The lads go and search for tracks while I wander off in search of the nearest village-"

"Ah," I interrupted, "so not such the great hunter that I was told you were then? I was wondering where all those rabbits came from one night."

The prideful posture my companion had hunched over and his lips fell into a feigned yet almost believable frown. A bare hand rested across his heart as he gave out a heavy, pained sigh. "You hurt me, Da'mi, but you're so very, very wrong. _I_ happen to be the best swordsman my clan has. Maybe the only, considering most use that toothpick they call a bow." Jaras quickly corrected himself by throwing his hands up behind his head, resting them against the crook of his neck and then, with a flick of his tongue, openly stared up at the ceiling that was almost enveloped completely in darkness except for the occasional flicker of candlelight. "So, I'm searching the woodlands when I see a light."

"A light?"

"Yes, Da'mi. A light. Now, it weren't a firefly, nor was it some fancy spell the Keepers do. It was a fire. A campfire. Turns out a group of young shemlen wandered into our territory thinking they were brave and all that. Probably wanted to impress their ladies, but all the impression they gave was one that sent them running to their mothers."

I leaned further forward so that my stomach touched the table's edge. "Ooh, this I must know. Tell me more."

"So, there I was," he began, drew his arms out and intimidated the actions he had once done for all to see, "in the vast woodland, left deciding between tailing it home or staying to watch. Then, an idea popped into mind. One of the shemlen spoke up and said, 'You hear the stories about the knife-ears out here?' 'No,' replied the other. 'Well,' said the first, 'they say these knife-ears are everywhere. Hiding amongst the trees, down the ditches and even in the rivers, waiting for weary travelers to get lost so they can drag them back to their camp.' And the other said, 'That's nonsense. They can't be everywhere. The forest is too big.' 'Ah,' said the first, 'but that's where they trick ya. Have the animals on their side, they do. The wolves and all. In fact, if you hear a wolf, it's said that their masters aren't far behind.'"

"They truly believed that?" I asked.

Jaras gave an exaggerated nod. "Aye, Da'mi."

"So what happened next?"

"Well being the useful 'knife-ear' I am, I decided to help them out with their little problem. You see, they began to argue about which one of them was right, so I moved over onto the nearest ledge, cupped my hands together and howled a howl so loud that it sent them peeing in their pants."

"By the Creators, no way!"

"Honest, it did. 'Course they didn't leave. Not yet. I grabbed my sword and began yanking it against the stone, then on the trees. All the shemlens had were pitchforks and they huddled themselves into a corner by the fire. Now the men, trying to be brave I guess, stepped out of the huddle and headed into the forest. Now, this is where I really got 'em. You see, my hunting partners had come back and knew what I was doing. They joined in! One began to howl, as did the other, until there were three men howling and the other, being me, shouting curses in elvhen. I tripped one shemlen over with a loose root while another clansman shot an arrow mere inches from the other's head. Then, when both shemlen were scared shitless, I rolled my shoulders back like this-" he gestured to both shoulders, rolled them back and spread them wide on either side, "raised my head and drew my swords so they were out in both hands. Then, I yelled, "I am the Dread Wolf! Cower before me oh balless shemlen!" Turns out, they'd heard the stories of the Dread Wolf, which only made their reaction all the sweeter."

"They heard about Fen'Harel? How?"

Jaras gave a sheepish grin. "I, um, may have robbed their village a couple of times and left a note or two calling myself the Dread Wolf. I know how it sounds, but they didn't know who he was and the name is quite good. If they ever mentioned it to an elf then they'd hear more terrifying tales. Couldn't pass up the chance and it served a purpose."

I quirked an eyebrow, smirked and then gestured with my hand for him to continue the story. "Sure. What happened next?"

"Well if I tried to act anymore intimidating the shemlen would've probably died of fright, and that'd have been no fun at all. Where's the thrill in getting it all over with? So, I said to them, 'You have trespassed on my sacred ground for the last time, shemlen. What will you give as atonement for your petty lives?'"

"You know," Jaras added after a moment. "For shemlen out in the woods, they had a lot of coin on 'em. Copper, silver and even family trinkets. Had to wonder whether they brought it to impress their ladies or simply 'cause they could. One even ran to his lady and brought back her jewelry in exchange. 'Oh no,' I said. 'You have defiled my home with your filth and so I demand that you leave my home like only the animals you are could do.'"

I thought over the meaning for a moment. "Like only an animal could do? What do you... you don't mean-"

"Oh, yes," he said with a wicked grin. "They scampered from the woods as bare as the day they came out of their mothers. Now _that_ is justice!"

I couldn't help it. My hands flew to my mouth as a laugh filled the room. Conversations ceased but all I could do was imagine the bare bodies of grown men running from the forest with terrified faces. It took many moments before I had regained my breathing but even then it was difficult to steady the chuckles that escaped.

"You were right, Jaras," I said after a while and tried to drink the last of my wine without coughing it back up. "That was a funny tale."

"Aye," he said, rather proud of the story and the reaction. "Though it turns out the Keeper's second had seen the whole thing. When the Keeper heard he wasn't impressed. Had to give the money to him and the jewelry. Also had to clean the aravels after every trek, but it was worth it to see the shocks on the shemlen's faces."

"So that's why every time you went hunting the Keeper would give you strange looks," I said.

"Aye, now you know why."

"Hey!" A voice called from behind.

A fair, grimy-haired human with the stench of a stable about him stood up from his table. His jaw was locked in some form of anger. I wasn't sure what the cause of such anger was, though. His drawn face was pale in the fire's light. "Couldn't help but overhear your story, _friend. _You know, that reminds me a lot of what happened to my friend and I quite a while ago. Right?"

"Sure does," replied another human hunched over in his chair. He too stood and allowed the chair to screech against the ground.

Jaras' face quickly dropped and the smirk that was once there faded almost instantly. "Oh, shit."

I swallowed and exchanged a worried look with him. "They were in this place the whole time?"

Both of us left our seats. The backs of our chairs hit the ground hard and my legs were almost tangled in the wood. The men only moved closer.

"I've been telling that story for years," said Jaras. "How'd I know this time they'd be here?"

The first human's voice rose as he headed to us, shoulders hunched and fists out. "You cost me my girl, elf."

Jaras merely scoffed. "With a face like yours? Poor thing must've been blind, or couldn't smell to save her life. Sure. If that lass had any sense, she'd have ditched you the moment she met you."

My back was the first to hit something, flat and solid. A wall.

Both humans flexed their fingers and shoulders, ready for a fight.

"That does it-" the first snapped. I ducked. A brass mug struck the wall with a hollow clang. Wine sprayed the brick and slid down in long droplets that hastily met the floor. I flinched and I'm sure everyone else did too. "Leave the girl," the human hissed at his companion. He stalked over to Jaras who was stuck in the tavern's corner with a tankard still in hand.

I hesitated. "Now, wait a moment, I'm sure we can sort this out-"

"Shut it," hissed the human's companion.

I bit my tongue, but not out of fear, but surprise.

As they drew closer, Jaras took one final swig before the tankard was dropped and his hands held out. "Now lads, take it easy. What is it you shemlen say? Better to have loved once then never to have loved at all? Well, in your cases it must've only been once. Creators, I feel sorry for the women. You're rich, right?"

"You cost me my life!" the first human yelled and flung yet another mug at the wall.

Jaras just managed to miss it. His back touched the other wall where the cluster of tables was thicker. "Hey, no use wasting ale, lad. If you're going to fight, then fight."

That seemed to be all the encouragement the men needed. Without another word, both darted to him while knocking both tables and chairs on their way through. As the humans drew close, Jaras clutched the end of his table and, with a heavy grunt, began to push forward. The room creaked. The floor rumbled like distant thunder. The table collided into the stomach of the second, while only the fists of the first. Both humans sprang to topple the table, but Jaras knew and with quick steps jumped out of the way and into the middle of the room.

"Stop bloody dancin', knife-ear!" one called.

Jaras smiled a wild, enthusiastic smile and gestured for them to follow with a tip of his head and cupped fingers. "Well then, shall we dance?"

I waited until the first man drew the first blow, only to miss my friend's body completely and to be jabbed in the ribs in return. My fingers began to tingle with magic but as I glanced around the room, the cheers of the drunkards and patrons filling the air, I knew I couldn't cast a spell. It'd only remind them of what I did the first time I arrived in Skyhold and might have turned them against me. Instead, my gaze landed on an iron plate, left discarded with left-over chicken bone and carrots. I took the plate. My fingers curved around the jagged edges as I crept over to the second human and, once his head had turned and he made to lunge, I forced it down with as much force as my muscles could muster. The crack was not from the plate but bone. The sharpest edge caught the man's shoulder at just the right angle for the arm to yank back and an ungodly wail to ring through the crowd's chants.

The plate was swung again. Iron shattered skin and jaw. The human stumbled back.

"Is that all you got?" I overheard someone shout from behind.

Close by, Jaras was still in his fight. With each thrust of bare fists, the human became slower and clumsier. The quick jabs and dodges Jaras did and the many failed attempts of the human warred him down and the frustration made him careless. It weakened him and allowed for Jaras to find and jab his weak points with sharp fingers, such as the lower half of his ribs, the left shoulder in the point where the muscle was weakest and the bandaged knee with no weight leaned upon it.

The chants of the onlookers became louder and more demanding, like a dramatic symphony meshed with raucous laughter and clashed tankards. Jaras' smirk became wide as his cockiness grew. He drew his arms up, gesturing for the crowd to chant louder, harsher. The human lunged but Jaras slipped past. His eyes met mine. The easy smile melted from his face, replaced by fear. "Da'mi, look out!"

Instinct took over, but it was too late. I looked back. A snarl, low and almost inhuman left the cut lips of my opponent. There was a flash of white and then darkness.

I cried out. My body became water.

My gaze flickered between dark and light, only after long moments to slowly blend into one image. The darkness receded to the corners of my eyes and the coldness pressed against my cheek and pain in my jaw became clear. A shadow, once distant but quickly grown moved back and then forward. His hand rested against his hip and drew something sharp and pointed.

Light caught the steel's tip, glistening against the candlelight. It was a blade. It sliced through the air almost too fast to see. I lifted my hands. Silence was what came first and then shocked gasps.

What happened next was a surprise, but not an unwanted one. Specks of frost and cold sheathed the man's tunic and pants. His blade froze to the skin and his feet to the floorboards in thick ice clusters. My fingers glowed from the after effect of the spell and, with a shiver and grunt, the human fell half-hunched. With a sharp intake of breath, I wiped the blood from my mouth and stood. The man's eyes were wide with splinters of white scouring the brows and specks dotted upon the eyelashes, but even in such a state, there was no hiding the fear behind them.

"Enough," I said and flexed my wrist. The magic disappeared. The ice melted and was replaced by water. The human gave in and flopped to the floor like a landed fish, though he shivered a little due to the cold.

For a moment, I dared not do anything other than breathe. The effect of the fight still shook every fibre of my being. But it was not over. Not yet.

"Little help here, Da'mi," Jaras called.

Two swords slashed unevenly through the air. Sometime during the fight, the human Jaras fought had gained access to his blades and now held them out, both pointed toward Jaras' chest. Jaras stood there, a chair's leg cuffed in his bloodied hands, with another bloody cut through the rough skin of his jaw and the rim of his brow and cheek red with the beginnings of a black eye.

"Put the swords down, shemlen," Jaras said to the human.

The human did not.

"Oi! Get over here so we can finish him," the human said, but frowned when there was no reply. He glanced left, first to me and then to his friend who was laid spread out across the floor. There was no fear behind his cold gaze then, only anger. Anger one would get when witnessing his friend's defeat.

Ignoring Jaras, the human turned the swords to me; deliberately flicking both arms out in an intimidating manner.

I narrowed my eyes. The crowd be damned. That human wasn't going to lay a hair on me, not when a simple flick of my wrist could nail him to the ground. But I did not have to move, nor react, for when the man made his approach, his shoulder jerked back and a cry tore through him. The attack was so sudden that it could've come out of nowhere. There torn through the fabric of his shirt was what looked like a long, drawn thorn stuck in the skin that had begun to bleed, but on closer look, it turned out to be a bolt of wood with an iron tip.

"Now, now," came a familiar voice through the thick of the crowd. "Has anyone told you to play nicely? Using a sword in a fist fight, now that's just cheating." The dwarf stepped out from the mass of people and soundlessly pulled the thick, metal lever back from his very large and unusually crafted crossbow.

"Varric?" I whispered.

The dwarf smirked my way, winked and then moved to the human. Despite his small size, he could be quite intimidating, it seemed. "You know what I say to cheaters?" he asked in a low voice that could not be missed.

The human, contorted in pain and with a grimace displayed across his features, merely shook his head.

"Don't get caught." The bolt was ripped from the seams. It caused the man to gasp out before crumbling to the ground in half-breaths. "Now these two here, they're my friends, and no one messes with my friends unless they've got a pretty good damn excuse, and I don't think you have that."

Varric allowed the man to get to his feet. His friend, who had gained consciousness sometime before, took his arm and wrapped it around his neck.

The dwarf motioned to the doorway with a tip of his head. "Now, run along and pretend you were never here. Wouldn't want our dear friend the Inquisitor to find out about this little ordeal, would we?"

"You'll pay for this dwarf," the man warned, but Varric only chuckled.

"Hah, where haven't I heard that one before? Now, off you go."

Once the humans were out of sight and the crowd had dissipated into little more than wandering stragglers, Varric turned to Jaras and I with the same smirk but also with a tired sigh. "So, I see I've missed out on all the fun. Mind telling me what just happened?"

"Oh, the usual," I said as I lightly stroked the edge of my jaw. I winced, but it felt like a bruise and not anything damaging. "Arrogance. Stupidity. Both clash and end up with broken stools, icicles planted in the ceiling and a ruined tavern. Just the usual. Anything new with you?"

The dwarf gave a small chuckle. "Huh, seems I did miss all the fun. But I'm afraid I didn't come just to save your asses."

"I had him where I wanted him," said Jaras as he picked his swords from the floor and placed them carefully in the scabbards strapped to his waist's belt.

"Of course, because you looked like you had everything in control. My apologies for ruining it," said Varric sarcastically before he turned to me. "But, now that you mention it, I came here to bring you back. The expert Grumpy wanted is here and Chuckles isn't too pleased by the new arrival."

"The expert? Why? Did he find something?" I asked.

"Oh, he found something alright. Your magic thing, but it's not going well. You better see for yourself, that's if everything's in one piece by the time we get there."

I glanced around the tavern and shrugged. "It's better than staying here."

Daylight was the first to hit our frames once we stepped outside. By the position of the sun, it must have been midday at least. We walked from the tavern to the busier areas of Skyhold and weaved our way through the marketplace's many traders, past the dazed-looking travelers that tried to gain their bearings from their long journey up the mountain, and past the men rolling barrels, kegs and hauling chests through the path. A set of wide stone steps led up from the end to the main doors of the Keep.

"Thanks for the help back there, lad," Jaras said as we stepped through. The dim light of the inside made him squint.

"Ah, don't mention it," Varric replied like it was something he had heard a hundred times. A quick tap of the back stopped him in his place, though.

"You know, I'd like a crossbow like that," Jaras said. I knew that look on his face all too well.

Varric must have noticed it too because he placed a protective hand over the crossbow before continuing to walk. "Bet you would, but let's not get carried away. Bianca here's one of a kind. Chances of you finding one like her is pretty much none."

"Shame."

"Hah, not really. You just stick with your swords and daggers."

It felt strange walking into the study room with tension so thick that it could be cut with a dagger. A single candle, hidden behind tomes and parchment and left against the edge of the table casted enough light to illuminate the faces around it. Deep shadows swallowed the furthest corners of the room and the tower above.

Stood at one end of the table was the apostate mage with his arms locked across his chest and a deadly glare fixed on the small height of hair that rested above the columns of books that caged it in. The mass of hair, surprisingly, grumbled and wavered from side to side and it was only when my companions and I moved closer to it that we realised that the hair was attached to a stocky body, concealed in mucky leather braces, chainmail that ended close to the ground and a thick belt that only just managed to hold the armour together. If pressed, I supposed it could have been a dwarf, but not one like Varric. That dwarf seemed dirtier in a way, like he had just come from a mine and the sooty tracks that followed him only seemed to prove my suspicions.

"This," Varric began hesitantly," is Dugan, the... rock specialist."

I didn't react right away. My attention was caught on the foul smell that rose from him that I was sure, if left long enough would draw flies like a bear to honey. Its dampness reminded me of wet fish, but there was also a mixture of fire wood and the musty smell of uncooked boar left raw for crows to eat. In fact, the low rustles of feathers from above made me wonder if I wasn't the only one that thought that.

Slowly, I turned my gaze from Dugan and let it land on Varric. From there, I just stared at him blankly. I hoped that what I witnessed was some trick of the Fade or that I had been knocked unconscious from the tavern brawl and that what I saw was some imaginative plot my mind had conjured up.

Varric's arms flew up. "Hey, don't give me that look. Grumpy wanted a rock specialist. He's the only one my contacts could find in such short notice and, to be honest, he's probably the best we're going to find."

Dugan moved from the table, though only slightly. The thick sideburns of the dwarf, half hidden under the brown, wooly beard, twitched as he mumbled incoherent nonsense with only syllables such as 'rock,' 'stone' and 'thing' rising from his rough and gravelly voice. The beads of his braids, strangled in the wiry wisps of lose hair, dangled from the corners of his mouth.

"I've gotta admit, even for a dwarf this guy's odd," Varric added.

I could only nod.

I noticed when Dugan's face came into view that there was a glass monocle pressed against the ridge of his plump nose and covered a white eye. The other eye was dark in colour but even that wasn't clear to see due to the bush he had for an eyebrow. He seemed intent in his stare as it never wavered. There was something cupped in his hands. It was something that glimmered in the light. It was the shard.

"This is stupid," I said. "What would a dwarf know of something that was elvhen made?"

"You're telling me. As you can see, Chuckles isn't taking it too lightly. Finds having him around to be, well, '_distracting' _was his word for it. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

It was true, Solas did not look in the best of moods. He seemed irritated by the dwarf at best.

"Maybe Dugan isn't that bad."

Something between amusement and doubt plucked at Varric's lips as he spoke, "Oh, you thought I meant him. No, I meant Chuckles. Doesn't seem to like Dugan rooting through his stuff and taking over this little project of his. As for the rest, well, you'll see soon enough."

"For the last time, it is not a rock! The Inquisitor was wrong. He has no way of possibly knowing what this artifact could be, so I suggest you hand it over so I can continue my research," Solas' voice rang from the table.

Dugan merely frowned and pulled the shard further from Solas' reach. "By the tits of my forefathers, don't get your ears in a twist, long ears. I'm busy."

Solas' glare hardened. "Busy doing what? You've been staring at the shard for the better half of an hour tapping it with that thing of yours."

"This thing is specially made for this type of job, long ears. Don't insult the tool."

"And am I supposed to apologise to an inanimate object?"

"You darn right you are!"

I wasn't sure how long they had both been arguing but Solas seemed to have been at his width's end. His fingers slipped down the contours of his face and halted when his palm reached his jaw. "For for f- ugh. What did I do to deserve this? No matter. I can see that any word on my part will not sway you."

The dwarf merely grumbled and went back to studying the shard.

Solas' eyes narrowed at the sight of me and it wasn't long before he was beside Varric and I. "There you are. I've been wondering when you'd get here. Can you believe this? This dwarf knows nothing of what he's gotten himself into. When will the Inquisitor listen to reason? It's like he purposely ignores everything I say, and for what? To prove a point? I-" His gaze lowered to my chin and his frown changed, not longer one of frustration or anger but more of concern and confusion. "Are you alright?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Your mouth. It's bleeding."

On instinct, my fingertips reached for the corner of my lip. I looked down. At the sight of red, I quickly wiped the area with my sleeve. "It's nothing. There was a fight."

"A fight?"

"Blame Jaras over there. It's nothing to worry about."

His features softened but there was still concern there. "I see."

"Anyway," I said once I knew there was no more blood, "you were saying?"

Solas gently shook his head. "It does not matter. I'm just not sure what I'm going to do with him over there. He's stubborn natured, that's unquestionable and it makes things difficult. I doubt the Inquisitor will listen to reason anyway. He's too busy for that after all. It seems I may have to put up with our friend here, at least for the time being."

Despite the situation, I smiled. "It seems it might be worth making introductions."

Solas, too, smiled, but it was more out of surprise then happiness. "If you think it's worth it, be my guest."

I stepped nimbly to the side of the foreign dwarf but did not make my presence known straight away. Curious, I peered over the stack of books, only to focus on the peculiar arrangement of tools displayed out over the table. The papers had been swept to one side, so far that they were close to falling off the edge. A cloak draped over the chair Solas once sat in and that too had quickly gained the stench the dwarf seemed to bathe in.

"Now, let's see," Dugan began to mumble. He tapped the tip of the shard with a tool comparable to a tiny hammer and pressed his ear against it. His eyes closed. "Hmm. Slight ringing. No damage to the surface. Good shape. Hard, soft surface, no pockets..."

"What are you doing?" I asked.

The dwarf jumped back. "W-w-hat's going on? By my forefathers, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry I-"

"Almost gave me a heart attack, you did."

"I'm sorry," I said again as the dwarf placed a heavy hand over his heart to try and steady his breathing. "I didn't think I was being too quiet."

"Bah, it doesn't matter. I'm just not used to all this quiet. No machinery. No noise. Just silence. It's unbearable." With a heavy breath, he slumped back into Solas' chair and rested his hand over his head, just above the brow. "You, uh, asked somethin'?"

"I asked what you were doing."

"Oh. What's it look like?" He threw his arms out to the table. "I study rocks."

Dugan must have noticed my confusion, because he elaborated. "What else do ya think a dwarf from Orzammar does? Pick flowers, write poetry and sing out about our love of the Stone to long ears like yourself? Maybe play fetch with nugs during our spare time frolicking through the Deep Roads? Hah! I bet you do! Blasted surface-dwellers with your sky and magic, and elves too!"

I frowned. "You've got something against my kind?"

"Now, now don't get like Baldie over there. It'd help if ya all didn't look the damned same. Makes things confusing, it does. Like seeing double."

I looked over my shoulder. "Solas, Jaras and I look nothing alike."

The dwarf pulled a face. "You need ya head sorted out then because you all look the same to me."

"Maybe this lad's spent too much time underground. Must've messed with his mind, or lack of it for that matter," said Jaras.

Dugan ignored the comment. "So, I'm guessin' you're the boy, right?"

I blinked. "Boy? I'm no boy."

He gestured for me to bring my head closer and squinted through his monocle. "You must be one ugly girl then, no offense, or maybe this eye-thing is finally broken, hmm."

A laugh came from behind and to no surprise, it was from Jaras. "I think this dwarf and I will get along just fine."

I quirked an eyebrow.

His smirk quickly fell. "I-I mean, he has a great sense of humour. He obviously knows you're a lass, Da'mi. Right, lad?"

Dugan did not reply. The monocle in his hand had already taken his concentration.

"Maybe not."

Just as the monocle was placed against the bridge of his nose, Dugan snapped his fingers. "Wait, wait a moment. You're the girl then, yeah? You're the long ear that's connected to this thing?"

I nodded.

"Heard you can throw magic around like some fancy mage or somethin'."

"That's part of it, yes," I said.

"Hmm. Fascinating." He looked back at the shard. "Wonder if I could do that, once I find out what type of rock this is."

"It isn't a rock, child of the stone," Solas said from behind.

The dwarf merely ignored him. "Look. If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I know stone. I'll be able to tell ya soon enough what this thing is and where it came from. I bet my father's pet nug's granddaughter I will, don't you fret. And if I don't, well, there's always ale round here, right? I was promised ale."

"That was your terms to coming here? Ale?" I asked in surprise.

The dwarf frowned. "Do I look stupid, girl? No, not just ale. I was promised rum too."

"Well that makes sense," said Varric.

"Look, give me a day," Dugan said as he stood up from the seat. "Two at most. If I don't find out anything about this rock by then, then you can have it back. The Inquisitor fella won't have to know. Truce?"

I eyed him warily for a moment. I supposed it couldn't hurt to allow him to see the shard. Solas hadn't found much out about it anyway, so having another person look at it might not have been so bad. Besides, the shard was useless to most. I doubted the dwarf would take it, especially when he wasn't sure what it was.

"Alright, Dugan. You have two days," I said.

The dwarf's face lit up like a torch at the sound of that and began to prepare his tools for... something. "Now that's what I like to here. Hey, if you're headin' to the tavern, mind getting me an ale or two? Scratch that. Make it three."

_By the Creators,_ I thought. _What had I done?_


	8. The Beginning of the Fold

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Eight: The Beginning of the Fold

"Hmm. I got it! I have come to a conclusion."

The rough voice of Dugan disturbed my sleep and it was only when I raised my head that I realised I had slept at the study table with a Fade book rested beneath my cheek.

Solas slowly blinked. The grasp of the Fade released him from slumber and allowed him back into the real world. With a drawn-out yawn, he brushed an arm behind his neck and winced from the seemingly uncomfortable position he had laid in. Jaras hadn't moved. His back remained pressed up against the wall and a low snore escaped his mouth.

"Well? Have you found anything out, Dugan?" I asked, leaned up and stretched my arms out.

Dugan's foot hit the table's edge. He let out a loud curse that quickly spread throughout the room, grunted and then rubbed his ankle. Despite himself, a wide and toothy grin had spread wide across his features. After clearing his throat, Dugan straightened his back and raised his head. "It's not a rock."

Solas groaned and slouched even more in his seat. His fingers straightened and touched into the form of a steeple beneath his lower lip. "Brilliant deduction master dwarf. Care to share any other brilliant ideas you have about its origin, or are you contempt to leave it as that?"

"Hang on a moment, long ears," the dwarf said, squinted into the monocle and stared at the shard more closely. "It could be a type of metal. Hmm maybe even glass."

"You're serious? Metal? Glass?" Solas let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his face. "I do believe the world has gone mad, or perhaps I am still in the Fade. I deeply hope it is the Fade."

I sighed. It wasn't the dwarf's fault. Not even Solas could figure out exactly what the shard was even though he gave it his best. Of course, I knew more than I wanted to admit, but truthfully I only wanted a cure; a way to be rid of the thing before worse things happened to me.

Dugan raised his hands. "Now, now, before you go and start sayin' stuff, let me say somethin'. This thing, whatever it is, sings."

Solas frowned. "What do you mean, child of the stone?"

"Now, this may sound mad, and that might be due to the ale and what not, but I heard, well know this sort of thing. Lyrium sings, but it's faint, or so I've heard from this strange guy with a big nose that looked all ghostly, hmm maybe he wasn't a guy at all, but yes, and, to be honest, not many can hear it because... well, I've spent a long time with the stuff and... but this, this! This sings! Well, not sings but talks! I swears it. The stone, thing, is alive."

"Alive?" I whispered.

Solas moved up in his seat and hunched over with his fingers to his lips. "That might not be so unthinkable. It might explain the energy I sensed from it and the magical attachment both Lahris and the shard have."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Well think of it like this, if you were a living being trapped, what would you do? Latch onto the closest thing available. That thing being you. You're its anchor, I suppose- it's grip in the real world."

Despite the almost hilarity and madness of such a claim, it strangely made sense. When Solas cast his spell, a power controlled my actions, but it felt more than just control. I felt fear. I needed to protect it. But did that mean that something was trapped inside the shard and that I was connected to it somehow? The very idea of such a thing was nerving and, honestly, I didn't want to know.

The door opened with a clang and revealed the hastening strides of Cassandra. A stern expression pierced through her dark hair. Her scowl leered across us all but quirked when she saw me. "There you are. I have been looking for you."

"Me? Why?" I asked.

"There is something we must discuss-" Her words faltered at the strange yet intense stare of the dwarf.

Dugan, having noticed that he had gained her attention, let out a low rumble, similar to clearing ones throat, pulled the belt that kept his chainmail together and strode over to the Seeker with a strange twinkle in his eye. "Why, hello there human. Never seen you before. Believe me, I'd notice." Dugan winked.

Cassandra's face fell into one of disgust. "Ugh. Is there a reason for him to be here?"

"He's the specialist the Inquisitor wanted," said Solas.

"And has he found anything useful?"

The dwarf smirked. "Oh, I've found several things I assure you, and maybe some others if you're willing to help, if you catch my drift. I say, if the women in Orzammar were half as tall and gor-geous as you, I doubt I'd have ever left."

Cassandra blinked. I tried to hold back a smile. The look on her face, eyes wide and mouth hung like a noose was enough to lift anyone's spirits. As if trying to forget what just happened, the Seeker turned her back to the dwarf and motioned to me. "You, elf. You're to come with me. Immediately."

I frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I'll explain on the way. Solas, you may want to come as well. This may interest you."

The Seeker's form disappeared. I looked back at Jaras. He was still asleep. The appearance of the Seeker hadn't even disturbed him.

"Jaras?" I poked his arm.

He groaned and cursed in between snores.

I pushed his shoulder, this time harder, and with a snort, he lifted his head. "What?"

"Come on. Get up, and take the shard with you."

An arm swatted me away but, after a brief silence, Jaras sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Cassandra waited for us outside. As the door was shut behind us, the quite mumble of "Alright then, I'll just be here," echoed through the crack. It was strange how Cassandra hadn't asked for Dugan and wanted me instead. I was a guest in their Inquisition of course, or perhaps prisoner was a better term for it, but I was not one of importance and not a person they should have been too concerned with. That was why the specialist was there, or at least I thought it was.

Solas moved closer. "What's this about Seeker?" he asked. We passed through the Keep rather quickly and down the front steps to the marketplace.

Cassandra halted by the stall closest to the tavern and pointed to the stable in the distance. "Gather your supplies and meet me there. Bring enough for at least a day's ride and back. We will be gone long."

I held my hand out to prevent her moving. "Wait a moment. What's going on?"

"I will tell you once you gather your things. Now go, we're missing daylight," she said before she shoved my shoulder back and headed to the stables.

Surprised, I looked back at Solas and Jaras who both held expressions that were either blank or curious.

"Do you have any idea what's happening?" I asked the apostate mage.

Solas merely shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it might be wise to pack. Whatever the Seeker wants, it's bound to be of some importance."

"I don't like this," said Jaras.

Solas nodded. "I don't think we have much choice, friend."

It was not long before I appeared in my room in the tavern. The room wasn't as big as the other rooms I had seen, but it was free and had what an elvhen mage needed to live off, such as a bed, desk and chest close to the back wall and away from the boarded window. Only a few rays of light could pierce through during the day and even less light during the night but it was enough to see.

It was a mystery what the Seeker had planned, but from the overall look of it and from what was indicated, it wasn't good. Fingers hastily swept through the rusted chest and placed only the necessities into my satchel, such as food wrapped in leather bindings, several wine skins full of water, a tome or two that I had 'accidentally' taken from the study room and a dagger Jaras' clan had once gave me, engraved on the hilt's side with my name displayed in elvhen and a carved image of a halla and tree. The Dalish believed so heavily in their animals and creators. Sometimes it was endearing, other times it was disappointing. For all the knowledge they had collected over the centuries, so much was lost to them. Sometimes I wondered if it was for the best. I doubted if they knew the truth about their people, about our people, that they would still feel the same.

An hour had passed and daylight had set over the distant mountains of the horizon. Clouds had begun to turn into darker shades of grey, pink and orange and the air was thin and cold.

The stable was poor compared to other human cities - crafted with timbers of dark wood and oak and held together with rusty nails with fine strands of straw and hay in the thick cracks, especially in the thick, rotten beams that seeped dust with every footstep from above. A torch was the only light in the mostly enclosed area, yet left a dim and dusky setting for the evening. In one of the smaller stables was my horse, Assan, named after the arrow-shaped crest that ran down the length of his nose, only to pause at the tip of his muzzle. From there, it continued in a curve down his throat, only to end in a point on his chest.

As I fastened the leather saddle and tugged Assan out by the reign, I caught a glimpse of the horses already out of the stable, clasped in sheets of steel plating tied to the chest, head and back. The plating was so tight that any movement on the horse's part sent a shatter through the air. Those horses were bred for one purpose and one purpose only: battle.

Solas looked to the inner of the stable and, with a light pat on his mount's mane, walked over. His nimble fingers caught the last strap of the saddle and helped to buckle it so that Assan was ready to ride. "Are you ready to depart?"

"Ven [to go]? Yes, I am," I said and guided Assan out to the center of the marketplace. "Still have no idea what will happen?"

"None, but knowing the Seeker, it will be something you can help with, providing that you want to, that is."

"That depends on what she wants me to do," I said and motioned for Assan to halt. I pulled at the saddle one more time before throwing a leg over the back. It felt good to be able to ride again without having to stay within Skyhold. The fortress, though safe and somewhat comforting was also a cage and, until then, I had not been permitted to leave. I could sense that Assan could not wait to leave either as his hooves had already begun to scratch the stone in excitement.

It did not take long for Jaras to gain control of his horse, though his horse was known for its unpredictable temperament. He had gained her from a village not too far from Skyhold but was never told of her unusual behaviour until one day she spotted a hare in the neighbouring field and began to buck and thrash around until Jaras was thrown off and had to run after her. I smiled at the memory.

Cassandra passed Asssan on her way to the front gate. Her horse trotted close behind. "I see you are ready to go."

"Where are we going?" I asked and stirred Assan in that direction.

"The Hinterlands."

"Is that far?"

"Not as far as other places, but quite. It's enough to require horses." With a grunt, Cassandra hoisted herself onto her mount and guided the horse around in a complete circle before checking the horse for the move. "Are you sure you have everything you will need? There will be no turning back."

"Yes," I said. "Let's go."

...

Days felt like years on horseback and yet I relished the freedom the clean air and open land brought. The first stretches of pale snow had receded long ago and the far horizons of hills and grassland were riled with the flora and fauna of the Hinterlands. The sight of the wildlife, of nature, with no barriers only made the freedom more sweet and real. There were many temptations, many thoughts on just galloping away from the group and allowing the wind to take me in any direction, to have the choice to escape the troubles of the world. Yet those fleeting thoughts quickly vanished to the back of my mind and the reality of where I was and what responsibilities I had slowly became clear as the first rays of dawn approached.

The path we travelled was lined with red dirt splotched with patches of brown grass and drying mud. Beyond the dirt were the trodden and sagging stalks of the cornfields rarely seen to be maintained by a farmer or his wife. The cornfields bordered either side of the path and were spread far and wide.

"You seem to be relishing the time you have away from Skyhold," the elvhen apostate claimed rather boldly from my side. He reared his horse so that our mounts were at equal stride and only a width a part.

"Skyhold has its benefits, but I miss this." I gestured to the land with an outstretched hand. "I feel more comfortable out here than in a crowded fortress."

Despite the distractions of the environment, it was Solas' low chuckle that kept my attention. It wasn't something that happened often: the elvhen mage confident and not recluse. "I can tell."

"You said you travelled quite a lot, Solas."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did. You said you had to travel in order to see new places in the Fade."

"Oh indeed," he replied with a slight curve of his lips. "And what about this interests you so?"

"Well aren't you pleased to be out here away from Skyhold?"

Solas took a moment to look around, first at the path and the rocky walls that followed it and then to the far away mountains, before he made his decision. "It is nice to have a change of scenery as well as other things."

I smiled. One could take the elvhen away from nature, but one could not take nature away from the elvhen, or so the Dalish once claimed. That apostate may have liked to believe that all he cared for was the Fade and his books, but I was sure that there was more to him than met the eye.

"Dirth ma, tell me."

"Tell you what?" he asked.

I leaned further forward and gently patted Assan's mane. "About one of your adventures. There must be many."

Solas looked at me sceptically. "You really care to know, or is it sarcasm? It's hard to tell these days."

"I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't curious. Dirth ma."

"Alright," he said with a light chuckle. "Hmm. Care to be more specific? I have had dreams of ancient ruins if that is of any interest. I have had experiences with spirits that are rarely known to those who do not dwell in the Fade often, like yourself, or maybe you'd care to hear of some of the memories themselves? They too can be quite fascinating."

I bit my lower lip in thought. "Ruins. I'd like to hear a story of elvhen ruins."

"Ruins? There are not many who would care to hear about those, or at least from the few people I speak to."

"Let me guess. Spirits are more interesting?"

"Indeed to most. Spirits are more unknown to them yet are also the most feared. Sating ones curiosity usually starts from there because it is a topic that is so widely common these days."

"That might be 'cause of the huge hole in the sky," muttered Jaras.

"Hush, Jaras," I said. "Elvhen ruins. I want to know about that."

Solas smiled and allowed his gaze to drift to the sky. "As you wish. In my travels, I came across an old ruin buried deep into the bowls of a mountain, so dark that not even the light of day could pierce through. As I delved further down, I found that the ruin itself was in fact a tower, left unguarded before the times of ancient Arlathan. The mountain over time had consumed most of the stone, leaving caved-in hallways and scarred statues with pieces missing, but surprisingly there were tunnels left untouched and free to wander. The tunnels led up to a large hall, patterned with a treasure-trove of lost knowledge and works of art Thedas has yet to rival. Sadly, the tomes of such knowledge had succumbed to dust and there was no way of restoring them, but through the Fade, it made little difference as I was able to watch instead of read. If one listened closely, you could still catch the whispers of thousand year old arguments left undecided, even if the owners of such whispers had perished long ago."

Unconsciously, I leaned further forward in my saddle and allowed Assan to take his turn in guiding the way. My gaze hadn't left Solas. "What happened? What did you find?"

His smile grew. "You would have to have been there to truly understand. Besides, some mysteries are better left secret, at least until their next telling."

I lowered my gaze. "Not fair."

"Indeed, but where is the excitement if everything is known?"

At Assan's stirring, I repositioned myself on the saddle and re-gripped his reigns. "That tale's... actually quite amazing, Solas."

The apostate blinked. His face went slack with surprise. "You think so? I must admit, I am surprised you think that."

"Don't be. You make an excellent story teller."

"Thank you. Perhaps I should share my experiences more often, if you still care to listen."

"You should. Real or not, your perspective on things like this is..."

"Interesting?"

"I was going to say unique, but yes, that too."

Jaras rolled his eyes. Solas frowned at the reaction. I on the other hand smirked and went back to concentrating on Assan and the path ahead.

"How much father are we from our destination, Seeker?" Solas asked.

Cassandra looked up from the map crumpled in her lap and then, with a confused scowl, turned to look in front at the sign post planted firmly in between two boulders and a patch of tall grass. The path between it had two possible ways to journey through and both were clear from trouble and wildlife. "We are not far now."

"What are we supposed to be doing anyway?" I asked. "Surely we're not out here for sight-seeing."

Cassandra gave a shallow nod. "One of our envoys was attacked during its journey to Skyhold. We are going to see what happened and, if we can, who's at fault."

Solas raised an eyebrow. "Attacked? How?"

"We are unsure. There were no wounded but many casualties. We only know about it because of its delay and from the reports the Inquisitor's soldiers have sent. We suspected rebel mages were at fault, but what benefit would that be to them now that they are allied with us?"

To my surprise, Solas' tone darkened and became as cold as a winter's blade. "Allied or imprisoned? If my memory serves me correctly Seeker, weren't the mages forced to join us?"

Cassandra's face became a set of hard lines and her glare struck Solas who equally glared back with no hesitance. "Yes, they were but it is for their own good, Solas."

"You conscripted mages?" I asked.

Solas took a deep breath, possibly to control his annoyance. "Yes, they did."

My fingers tightened around Assan's reign. "I'm a mage."

"Yes," Cassandra affirmed rather quickly. "We know."

"Then why am I not locked up?"

"Because for the moment you are useful to us and have not done anything to cause our aggression, yet. We are not templars and during this war we only have authority over the rebel mages under former Enchanter Fiona's service, not on their own. Fortunately for you none of our men sustained major injuries during your arrival to Skyhold. It was agreed upon that you did not intend for it to happen, so we are willing to let it go, for now. The guards still do not trust you, as don't the people, but at the moment, that is not our concern. It may interest you to know that a Dalish clan had vouched for you and their generosity was most persuasive."

I blinked. "A Dalish clan?"

"Yes, I believe they call themselves the Sahlin."

"In this moment," explained Solas.

I nodded. "Yes, that's what the name means, but what did they say?"

Cassandra reached down, took hold of a note from her satchel and handed it to me. "That they sent you to us in their hour of need and that any co-operation on our part would be greatly appreciated."

"I didn't know your people even cared for the Dalish." My fingers curled around the note protectively. Though slightly hesitant, I allowed my gaze to roam the curved writing. Despite not being familiar with human writing, the Keeper didn't do too badly.

"Some do. We do. Any help in our war is greatly appreciated no matter who it is from. Your clan's continued resources also help the Inquisition," said the Seeker.

I sighed and folded the paper in half before handing it back to her. "They're not my clan. They're Jaras', but they are good friends."

"They must think highly of you to contact a human organisation," said Solas.

"More than you know," I whispered and tapped my heels lightly against Assan's side to go faster.

"What did they offer you?" Jaras asked curiously. "Must have been something good if the Keeper bothered to use the clan's treasury which, let me tell you lads and lasses now, isn't often. I should know. I've tried to persuade the lad so many times that I've lost count."

"Herbs mostly, but sometimes potions and even weapons, though they are not as formidable as ours. Still, they can be bartered with in exchange for coin. Most Dalish we have come across are not as forthcoming as your own and do not have many supplies to simply give away," said Cassandra.

Unexpectedly, Jaras smiled. "Well there's not a lot you know about us, shemlen. We elves have that much gold hidden away in our aravels, you wouldn't even be able to imagine it."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "And how do you obtain such gold, elf?"

"By merely taking possessions that shemlen no longer want."

"Jaras!" I warned.

He merely shrugged."What? It's not stealing if the shemlen leave it out on a table or shelf or... in a chest..."

"For your own discretion, I will pretend I did not hear that," Cassandra muttered and then guided her horse further away from us.

I merely shook my head.

Jaras frowned in confusion. "What? It isn't like you haven't stolen in your lifetime."

"But I don't say it in front of the human, do I? Especially the human that can put me back in the prison cells if she wants," I whispered harshly.

Jaras' face went blank. "Oops."

After another hour or so the corn fields had disappeared; replaced by towering tree trunks, thick with red and brown leaves and long branches. Through the canopy, specks of light patterned the shaded overgrowth and the backs of our clothes. I could feel Assan occasionally snag his hind legs on an upturned root or half-buried stone, mainly due to the lack of riding he had through the woodlands in the last month and on ground that was not shrouded in snow.

The path led further through the forest and up over a hill. It was surprising that there were no bandit camps, nor any threats from the local wildlife. Usually paths were notorious for such situations and that was why Jaras and I mainly kept away from them and instead journeyed through the wilds itself. It was as if we had passed unnoticed through the Hinterlands and it was almost too quiet for comfort. Not even the birds sang and that was strange enough.

"Why is it so quiet around here?" I asked.

Cassandra was the first to reply. "Our men have laid claim to this part of the Hinterlands for quite some time. The bandits have all been either dealt with or scared off, so it's no surprise that we have run into no trouble."

"Good to know."

The Seeker's horse halted on the steady inline. She pointed outwards to the less-shaded area of the undergrowth where trees had yet to take root. "There. You can see the patrol from here. The scouts shouldn't be too far ahead. They've kept the incident safe for us to investigate."

I bit my lip. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Come on, Da'mi," said Jaras. "The quicker this is done, the quicker I can eat."

"You've ran out of food again, haven't you?"

"What can I say? Long travels make me hungry."

"You haven't even done anything-" I let out a heavy sigh and unhooked my leg from the saddle's stirrup. "Never mind."

With Assan's reign in hand, my companions and I ventured further through the woodland. The midday's wind teased at my hood until it was forced back. As the light of the clearing grew and the shadows dissipated into the furthest reaches, I caught the slight glance of dark patches. My feet stopped. A hand flew to my mouth. Assan stirred from behind.

In the centre of the clearing, surrounded by ash and red-painted puddles that reflected the sun's light were grim and motionless figures that lay stretched up upon burnt grass and dirt with vacant, sightless eyes that stared above and into the void.

"What... is that?" Jaras' voice was the first to break the silence, but was barely above a whisper.

"I'm afraid that these may be the men we were supposed to find," Solas said grimly.

Cassandra was the first into the clearing, followed by Solas, Jaras and then, after a brief silence, me. The men seemed to have been dead for maybe a couple of days, but the burnt flesh and scorched ground more than told of what happened.

The Seeker watched the bodies carefully. Each face she saw, each set of emotionless eyes and blood-stained mouths seemed to be placed to memory so she would not forget. Her stern expression seemed to soften after each body was passed and the hold on her fists only tightened. "By the Maker, these poor men," she whispered. "They did not deserve such a fate."

Solas let his mount's reigns go and crouched over the ground, close to one of the fallen men. "They've been moved. They didn't die in this arrangement, but why? What purpose did moving them serve?"

"I think I know why, lad," said Jaras and pointed to the patch of burnt grass in-between the circle of bodies. Fine trails of smoke lifted into the air, but the black patches on the dirt seemed to have been burnt into it on purpose.

"What is that?" asked the Seeker.

Solas touched the dirt with his fingers before he took a step back. "A message."

Cassandra frowned. "A message? But I cannot read it."

"It's elvish," I whispered. "It's... elvish."

"Elvish? And what does it say exactly?"

My gaze gently travelled across the letters. The words imbedded themselves into my mind and seemed to come to life. As the meaning sunk in, I was too terrified to raise my head.

_'__Shemlen, ar'din nuvenin na'din. Ar __nuvenin __ma asha, ma len, na falon, na harellan. Na falon vhen ar. Halani ar. Sahlin emma ma harellan. Lahris, tu na vir. Garas, ma len. Din, na'din tu na falon'lin emma mi._

_Na shiral sahlin. Ma halam. Emma shem'nan.'_

"Lahris?"

That wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

"What does it say?" the Seeker asked again.

Solas looked like he was going to translate, but before he did I held my hand out and shook my head. "N-no, I will say it. It says, 'Human, I do not want to kill you. I want my woman, my child, your friend, your trickster. Your friend belongs to me. Help me. In this moment, I am in need of my trickster. Lahris, make your path. Come, my child. Don't, you will see your friend's blood on my blade. Your journey ends now. You are finished. My revenge is swift.'

That message could only belong to one person, a person that none other knew but me. He wasn't supposed to find me. I warned the Inquisition what would happen if they held me and because of that message it was too late.

"But who could it belong to?" asked Solas.

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. "Varhel. It is Varhel... my master."


	9. An Old Past Coming Undone

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Nine: An Old Past Coming Undone

"And who is Varhel?" Solas' voice cut through the thoughts of my mind as swift and precise as a silver blade, so clean that my mind went from complete panic and uncertainty to an empty void. Nothing passed through. All I could do was stare at him and not dare to utter a word.

He had heard me mention his name. Solas' companion, the Seeker and even Jaras had heard, but Jaras' unexpected silence was not due to fear or shock, but knowing. My master had been tracking us, that we knew, but to know that it was so soon was still frightening and sent my hand shaking to my scarred arm. It burned, but not physically. The burn was more of a memory, a light touch from an exposed flame, but had the sharp stab that fire's touch brought.

"The guy looking for us," said Jaras. With a firm cross of his arms he stepped from the circle of bodies, away from the traces of smoke that still lifted into the air and over to me. His arm found my shoulder and he brought my head to his chest. I rested my head under his neck and closed my eyes. "Told you he was a force to be reckoned with. Now you know."

"And who is this man?" asked the Seeker.

"Elf."

"Elf?"

I felt Jaras' head move slightly. A nod. "Aye. He's an elf, like me, like Da'mi and like your friend over there. You know, the ears pretty much give us away-"

"I know what an elf is."

Jaras coughed, but it was more of a deep-throated chuckle. "Just checkin'. But, anyway, truth is we know he's been hunting us for years and wants what Da'mi has."

Solas took another glance at the message clearly engraved into the ground and then looked back. He tapped the edge of his staff with thin fingertips and pursed his lips. "He wants the shard?"

"And power. Power's pretty much at the top of the list when it comes to him."

I lifted my head and slowly slipped from Jaras' hold. He cast me a weary lopsided grin, one he always used to ask, 'are you alright?' before he let me go completely. The burning of my arms had ceased, at least momentarily, and, after a heavy breath, allowed my nerves to drain away. I looked back at Cassandra who met my stare in return. "We told you he's dangerous and he won't stop until he's gotten what he wants."

"We had no choice, Da'mi. You were dying and we needed help. Inquisition was our only hope. Should be grateful they even took us," said Jaras.

"I am grateful," I said. "But I thought that with such forces he wouldn't dare trouble us, at least for a good while so we could gain our strength, maybe find out what happened to me and then leave. I... I didn't think it would be so soon."

"You talk about this Varhel as if he is a threat we should be wary of," said Solas.

I lowered my gaze to the charcoal patch of dead grass beneath my boot. "You have no idea."

Jaras sighed. "Remember the shard Da'mi had, lad? Remember we told you that wasn't the only piece? Well Varhel, he has the other, or maybe more than one. We don't know. But let me tell you now, he knows more about those things then we do and I bet you now he knows how to control them. What you saw when we first arrived was but a small bit of what you could expect from him. He's dangerous, lad, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

It was a while before either the Seeker or apostate mage spoke. Despite herself, I noticed the spark of and barely suppressed fear in the Seeker's eyes and the concern behind the thoughtful gaze of Solas. There was a tightness around Cassandra's mouth, and when she pinned her gaze once more on me, her voice was cold like the day I first met her in the prison cells. "I think it's time you started explaining yourself. Now."

I blinked. "Explain?"

"Who you are. Why you came to us. Where that shard of yours came from."

"And if I don't?"

Her voice became ice. "Then you no longer have our help. You leave Skyhold and never return."

I held my breath. The lower half of my bitten lip bled under the pressure. She couldn't do that. I needed the Inquisition, despite how little I trusted or respected the organisation. The Inquisition was not great, not by far. It was but a pale comparison to the organisations of old, of the politics and power long lost that the Seeker and her Inquisitor could only dream of and if I had any choice I would not have held them so closely, but without them, going back to the wilds of Fereldan would only have led to my discovery by my master and then most certainly death. I had to have them. I needed their assistance so much that if I had to beg I know I would have. My ancestors would have probably looked the other way, frowned upon the very notion and rolled in their graves, but there was no other alternative. There was no choice, but the humans could not know that, or the truth.

The staff was the first to break my thoughts once more as it hit the ground. Solas stepped out to Cassandra. "Seeker, please-"

A hand was raised. Solas fell quiet. "Enough, Solas. They brought this plague upon us. I will not be the fool that goes around in circles, chasing one's tail like some lost pup while she keeps us in the dark. I will not waste resources on a lost cause, especially resources that are needed to fight a greater threat. You know this."

"And throwing her out on her own? If what she says is true then she is already in enough trouble as it is. Our ignorance will only lead to worse consequences." Solas jerked his chin my way. "The power she holds, intentional or not, is power we cannot allow to be used against us. You were there when she unleashed such power in the courtyard, on the guards. Say we do allow her to leave and she is discovered. What will stop this Varhel from coming after the Inquisition when it is all over? When he thinks that he has already won?"

"We will find out when the time comes. I stand by my decision, Solas." Cassandra brought her gaze back to me." You, elf, either tell us the truth or this little charade of yours ends."

My shoulders gave in. There was no escaping it. "I can't tell you everything. Some things just can't be said, you have to understand, but I can tell you how we came across the shards and Varhel, if it makes it any easier or even gains your trust. I told you we're mercenaries." Jaras quirked an eyebrow at the story, but the others did not notice. "Varhel was a scholar who wanted protection when he went diving through an ancient elvhen ruin. Coin was good so we took the job. While we were in there, we saw... things. Found things. There was a room and there was a shard. I touched the shard and now here I am. There must have been more than one shard because the last time we saw Varhel it was at the village he burned down and he had with him a shard almost exactly like mine, but more powerful."

"And he burned this village because you were there?" asked Cassandra.

"He thought they were keeping us."

"He doesn't care about losses, don't you see, lass?" said Jaras. "You're nothing to him. Once he has his eyes set on something, he'll get it."

"You said an ancient elvhen ruin. If I show you the map, could you take us to it?" Solas asked.

I refused. I told him no and that some places were better of hidden and some memories left at the back of one's mind, not to be remembered. The look of recognition made me wonder if he knew that feeling well, if he had tried to forget but never accomplished it. The Seeker seemed to have believed my tale and asked if it was the truth. There was no better answer than yes. It was what she wanted after all. A story to end her fears. A story to believe. It did not matter if it was not true. They didn't need to know me and they most certainly were not going to find out.

"What do you plan to do now?" I asked the Seeker.

Cassandra looked calmly at her surroundings. After a few brief moments, she took her horses' reigns in hand and headed back to the path, close to the road. "I must inform the Inquisitor of this. From there, nothing is certain."

"And Jaras and I?"

"You will come with us. I may not trust you, but I believe your story. Whatever the Inquisitor may decide, it is important that this Varhel is brought to justice. These men did not die in vain, this I assure you." She brought a leather-cuffed leg over the saddle and brought her horse back. "You will continue your research with Solas. Maybe you can uncover something that might prove useful."

"I suppose that could work," I said and took hold of Assan by the reign. As my companions and I headed to the road, the thought of Varhel kept creeping into my mind. Thoughts upon thoughts rose and fell, but there was one sentence, one time that I could not forget, no matter how hard I wanted to.

_'You cannot run from me forever, ma_ _harellan_,_'_ Varhel had once said. His voice sent a shiver across my skin but I could not get it out of my mind. I let out a sigh and gently touched my forehead. The vallaslin, the blood writing on my face began to feel more of a curse than a burden. _'Remember who you belong to, ___harellan_. Remember where your true loyalties lie.'_

"You said master," Solas said from my side. His voice took on a hard edge. "You said Varhel was your master."

"And?"

"The way you speak of him. The term isn't used out of endearment, is it?"

"No. It isn't."

His eyes went narrow as he clutched the side of his cowl and pulled it further over his face. It was partly cast in shadow from the sun's rays that peeked through the small rifts of the canopy. His gaze did not meet mine but stayed on the path. "If you don't mind you asking, what are you to him?"

I hesitated for a moment but only because I truly didn't know the answer. I might have once been a witness and a nuisance, a person he did not want dead at first or had but thought it would be better to have me as a puppet under his rule, then I supposed I had become an accomplice, a trophy and perhaps even a loyal servant. It didn't matter though. That was a long time ago. "I'm a means to an end."

"An end?"

My feet stopped in the ground and I turned to face him. "I'm a mistake, Solas. Someone who should never have existed. Someone who didn't listen to him or follow his plan. I'm a mistake that, in his mind... has yet to die."


	10. Spirits

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Ten: Spirits

Whispers echoed from the higher halls of the Keep, muffled from the layers of ground and stone that separated us. Some of the noise, sharp barks of laughter and quick notes and strums of a lute crept through the old-hinged doors and into the long stretch of tunnel. Noblemen, I presumed.

The lower halls of the Keep were shadowy from the lack of light. It was around midnight when I took the first stairway down. Most of the servants had retired for the night while the guardsmen, from what I knew, were in the middle of exchanging posts when I left. Humans were so predictable.

At the feel of a sharp corner and curved stone, I turned aside and took some narrow steps that wound around and down deeper and deeper until I fumbled my way into pitch blackness. My hands touched the wall, rough, pricked and pocked and, with a hesitant step outward, began to walk, careful not to trip or cause unwanted attention. There may not have been anyone around but I didn't want to give my position away just in case. It took most of my time to free myself from the Keep's guard's gaze long enough to escape through a rarely used corridor. Ever since news had reached the Inquisitor about my old master, word had spread about the new threat the Inquisition faced quicker than either the Seeker or her advisors realised until it was too late. Some of the higher-ranked guardsmen and mercenaries brushed the thought off as just rumour and nonsense, something that didn't need to be paid mind to, but the lower-ranked members and noble families added to it, claiming that Varhel was in league with a threat called Corypheus, a threat that caused the Inquisition to be founded in the first place. I doubted it was true. If I knew anything about my old master, it was that he was arrogant in his power as well as stubborn. He didn't share.

Walls thinned and narrowed. The tips of my boots occasionally snagged on cracked stonework and loose panels. There was a reason the tunnel was barely used: it was a ruin. It was not long before the rough surface beneath my feet disappeared into a plot of grounded dust.

After another couple of brief moments I grew tired of the dark and blew into my hand. At the subtle nip of cold breath, a spark contracted and soon my palm enveloped in gold light.

Thick layers of algae, wet from the brown droplets of water spilled from the cracks, glowed in the faint light. Small black specks clutched snare-strings in the dense shadow, but when the light moved the specks disappeared into far corners while strands of webbing shimmered like meshed needles. Such old ruins, even ones that hadn't much historical significance fascinated me. The forgotten stories, the many secrets kept hushed for centuries at a time, the spur of ancient artifacts or engravings were what I craved. Knowledge left for those with keen minds to discover and yet, where but fragments of what were. How I would have loved to have seen Skyhold before the walls were built, before the foundations had been mounded into the depths of the mountain.

_Focus!_ My inner self reminded me. I had to remain focused. I could go into detail about the ruin later.

I remembered when the Seeker and her men dragged me passed the tunnel on the way to the Keep. I had passed the prison cell long ago and was close to my destination.

Eventually, through the passage, I emerged into a small enclosed area that split off into three other areas: one as another route back to the way I came, one to the outside courtyard and one with a sealed oak door. The last was what I came for.

With my spell-arm raised, I used my other to touch the cold handle. It was dry and stiff and creaked when forced down. Threads of webbing drifted down and, as the door opened, I felt the little warmth I had be forced away, sucked into the parting the door created with a hollow howl.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lip, but I didn't let it show for more than a heartbeat. I had a job to do.

Gloomy light passed from my hand to the stacks of tomes folded into worn bookshelves. The air was decayed and smelt of worn books and century-old ink pots. It was almost familiar.

Tattered pages of lost lore swept underneath the trail of my sable-coat as my boots grazed the floor and tore a sharp sound through the small library.

"Vir'dirth," I whispered. A place of knowledge. I could only wonder what secrets each tome held. If only I could have stayed there.

One book stood out from the rest, sat heavily upon an old book case with a cracked leg. Curious, I brought the old arm chair over and perched on the edge. It was much larger than the others and seemed to have been read recently. On the thick leather cover, darkened with age and scarred with light markings, were light round patches. Fingerprints. There were no precious jewels or metals on the book's bind. It was simply designed, as plain as the others around it, a part from a distinct gold spiral frame. As I drew my hands over, a warmth, unfamiliar yet comforting resonated from the pages.

How odd.

I felt my pulse begin to quicken. The book was enchanted. _But who would enchant a book?_ I wondered. It must have been a mage, yet the magic felt old, as if the enchantment had been placed there centuries ago. Perhaps the enchantment once served a purpose but over the decades withered away into the small rift of magic I felt. It was a possibility.

Undeterred, my hands dove through the pages. As my gaze skimmed the text, I felt my heart sink a little. There didn't seem to have been anything of importance. It detailed the layout of Skyhold, the possibility that before its build it was reserved by the ancient elves and even about superstitious tales created by the previous human inhabitants. However, as I began to lose interest, a word caught my attention. It was on one of the last couple of pages.

Setheneran. It meant land of waking dreams or, more importantly, was an elvhen term used to name the Fade, or a place where the Veil was thin. How odd. Elvish wasn't supposed to be in a human book. Humans didn't know elvhen, at least not enough to translate and those that did were not in Skyhold. There was a possibility that the book belonged to one of the elvhen, but then again there was a whole text in elvhen that one of the people wouldn't be able to translate, unless he or she knew the language innately.

Ever more curious, I placed my finger on the page and began to follow the words. Most of the writing had been worn away or unreadable due to tea stains, but there was a few phrases I could make out. _'Power of the Waking Dream. Spirits and Purposes. Spirits and the Waking Dream. Artifacts and Spirits.' I paused. 'There have been many intentions to draw the raw power of spirits and pass such into a stable-enough vessel to be later used at the will of a higher spell-caster, yet such practices when tried in the past have never born fruit. Spirits remain attached to the realm of the waking dream and over time have been found to guide themselves back into their original world, less they stay and become disease-ridden abominations, corrupted and bound from their original purpose. Many have given up hope of such a possibility, but I have not. If there is a chance, perhaps communication is needed in order to receive promise results, such as a higher being? A divinity, perhaps? Perhaps more magic is needed or perhaps a vessel created solely for such a purpose. My findings are of no use as of now, but perhaps in the future my attempts may be more fulfilling.'_

I slipped the page over, only to find that the rest of the writing had faded. There was no mention of the author or more of his notes, but the thesis he had behind vessels and spirits was something that sounded familiar.

A quiet whisper caught the air. It was light, like the touch of a finger against the door or the slow, cautious step of a foot. I didn't make that sound which meant that I was not alone. Fenedhis lasa. Of all the times to have been found, it had to be then.

My back sunk lower in the seat and, ever so slowly, I turned my head back. The ray of my spell reflected upon a pale hand, cuffed in green fabric. It was close but halted a few feet away. The intruder knew I had seen him. With a held breath, my spell went out. Darkness took hold. I jumped from the seat. Like a deer caught in the hell of the hunt, I bound towards the doorway.

Something hard and firm reached out. It wound round my waist like rope, unrelenting in my struggle, and turned me so that I was close to the body.

"You'll regret this if you don't let me go!" I felt the surface of the intruder's tunic shift and stiffen as a spell formed in my hands. "Let me go, now!"

"There's no need for hostility, falon," a familiar voice said and, with one arm loosened, a ball of light flashed white in his palm and reflected off of the sharp features of the pale elvhen.

Relief flooded through me. "Solas?"

The apostate mage gave a small smile.

I was about to thank the Creators it was him when a thought crossed my mind. My lips pursed. "What are you doing here?"

The strength of his arms lessened and, gently, he allowed his arms to fall from my waist. "Strange, I was about to ask you the same question."

Hesitant, I took a step back. "It's a bit late for someone to be awake, especially someone who seems to prefer the Fade to being awake. Besides, I didn't know you knew about this place."

His smile only grew. "The way you ask such questions makes me wonder if I'm under interrogation."

"I'm just being curious."

"Yes, perhaps, but I could also ask the same for you. What would you be doing in a part of Skyhold that only few know about, hmm?"

"You answer first."

Solas gestured to the tome rested on the ground. He bent down and wiped the dust from the cover. "I had come to return this. I had just finished reading it and thought it would be best to return it now then in the morning."

"Oh."

With a particular place in mind, the apostate mage fumbled through the book shelves and then slipped the tome into the collection of others. "I'm not as full of mystery as you think, lethallan."

Despite myself, I smirked. "Of course you're not."

His hand dropped from the book shelf, only to pause at the book on the table. The air fell quiet and he turned the last page over to the elvhen text. "So, are you going to explain what brought you here?"

"I... heard about the Vault library and had to see it for myself. I had to come now though. The guards wouldn't have let me go during the day. I swear they're like hawks. They know my every move."

A low chuckle filled the library. "Ah, a feeling I know well."

"Do they give you odd looks too?"

"Not so much now. At the beginning, when I arrived in Haven they were not too kind. Tolerant is probably a better word to describe their reaction to me." He tilted his head to the book. "You have read this too?"

"About the spirits? Yes."

"I'm surprised you were able to read it. Not many know the language of the people well enough to be able to translate it. I doubt even the Dalish could do it."

My fingers twitched, but I managed to cover the reaction with a gentle shrug. "What can I say? I love elvhen history and know a few things."

The apostate mage's gaze became thoughtful.

"Wait. If you read that, it must mean that you think that it has some connection to the shard, right?" I asked.

"It's a possibility. Nothing is certain. I have been looking into it though and I think I might have a way to know for sure."

"You're serious? But, what way? It isn't going to be like the last time, is it?"

His expression fell. "It might be. If you want to know what the shard really is, this might be the best chance. I could search for an alternative but I doubt the results would be as conclusive."

Thoughts of what happened after Solas first cast his spell upon the shard flickered like candlelight. The almost willing control the shard had over me, the thoughtless actions that were done from it and the sense of loss at the thought of it under threat made me wince. Even with an alternative, perhaps it would have been better to get whatever plan Solas had in mind over with. Whatever happened, at least there would be results and perhaps even an answer.

I replied through gritted teeth. "Let's just get this over with then before I change my mind."

Almost sensing my distress, the apostate gave me a reassuring smile. "I give you my word that it isn't as bad as it sounds."

With one foot out of the doorway, I let out a sigh. "You're not the first person to tell me that, Solas."

...

It was not long before we wound our way through the Keep's lower corridors, up a flank of stairways and into the study chamber. The room was quiet with the scribes and mages from above on the tower's balcony back in their beds or even in the local tavern. The crows themselves were even unusually quiet, hung in cages that occasionally swung and creaked.

In the hands of the apostate mage was the shard, cupped protectively in both palms. The hazy light of the table's candle reflected off it and gave it an almost violet hue.

The mage gave a cautious glance my way. "Are you ready, lethallan?"

"Just tell me again what is going to happen."

The apostate sighed. "I will simply cast a spell like I did before to see the effects it has on the shard. The spell I have in mind is one to locate spirits when in the Fade. I believe it will have the same effect on the shard if a spirit is indeed trapped inside."

"And what effect will that be exactly?" I asked.

"Well in the Fade a spirit either glows, showing its position, or communicates back."

"Communicates? How?"

"It is complicated. Just know that no harm is going to be dealt upon the shard so, theoretically, no harm should fall upon you."

I frowned at the 'theoretically' part but gave Solas permission to try his spell.

The mage cleared his throat and closed his eyes.

With his arms still, green power began to coalesce around the shard. The study chamber began to fill with an electric charge that pricked the skin and thrummed deep into the mind. The electricity sparked inside my chest, tingled through my veins and into my arm where it seemed to stay.

The shard continued to glow, only the glow changed from green to violet, a bright violet that against the orange sconces created a brown tint across our shadows.

The apostate smiled. "It seems I was correct. Come, have a look."

Despite my nervousness I found my feet moving forward, closer and closer to both him and the shard. It was strange. Inside his palms and through the violet light was a purer energy, almost like a gold orb that seemed to resonate and drift in circles. It was strangely beautiful.

Solas and I exchanged glances, but then his gaze caught my arm and stilled.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Your arm," he said after a slow inhale. "It's glowing."

I looked down and stilled. The black scars beneath my sleeve could be seen. The pattern was as bright as the shard against the grey fabric. It was strange. It didn't hurt, at least not at first. It was slightly hypnotic. The bright light almost seemed to put me into a trance, unable to hear or feel any other voices or presence but the light, and then my arm reached out to touch it and as my fingers pulled the sleeve back and touched the skin, my knees buckled.

"Lahris!"

Solas extended his arm and the spell went out, but the effect on me had not. I began to feel it, the burn. The jolts of pain began at the fingertips. It followed my veins up my arm and to my shoulder blade. My screams filled my ears but it was as if I was in a deep chasm unable to be heard. I felt as if my body would melt into the ground, the blast of heat so intense that I could have sworn if Solas' form was not beside me, lightly touching the arm and silently shouting out that I was alone in a burning building.

Purple sparks thrummed beneath the skin. It was going to happen just like before. I couldn't stop it. Not that time.

"Lahris? Lahris, please!"

I lay there against the ground. The world span almost dizzily and yet, as I tried to move any muscle or limb, it didn't co-operate. My body was lifeless, dull and empty. My vision dimmed and I felt the last vestiges of life within me ebb away.


	11. Changed, But Not

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Eleven: Changed, But Not

I could smell a mingled odour of stale sweat, dust and damp wood. I lay upon something rough, still and solid that cracked and creaked in protest with every movement. My hands travelled down my sides and felt the rough material of a blanket. The edges were thin and coarse.

As I opened my eyes, I could only make out a blur of dark timber and high-gabled wall. Slowly, I turned my head in an attempt to see where I was. I was not in the study chamber, nor was I in the Keep. Instead, the place I was in looked to be an attic of some kind. Simple and mostly vacant a part from a well-crafted chair beside my bed, covered with vials, cloth and thread. Opposite that was a small windowsill with an even smaller pool of water that leaked from the ceiling cracks.

It was the light strum of a lute that pulled at my senses and reminded me of where I was. I was in my room in the tavern, yet the question was how I got there.

I sat up, only to be rewarded by a flash of pain across my arm and at the back of my skull. The length of my sleeve has been ripped in two and gave a great display at how much damage the scarring had caused. The strange symbolic pattern had grown further and reached out across my chest, curved and tangled like vines and roots.

"You are awake. They said you would be but not for some time."

I gasped and stiffened. My head span to the sight of the voice, only to slightly relax at the blonde-haired and pale human with the strange black hat perched on the wardrobe's edge. The boy sat there, one leg draped across his lap and the other lazily tapping the wardrobe's side. One arm was held across one knee while the other held him upright from behind.

"Cole?" I whispered and pulled the bed-cover further over myself. "What are you doing here?"

In one fluid motion, the boy swung himself from the wardrobe. His boots contacted the floor without a sound. "You were hurting. I felt it while you slept. They brought you here. They didn't think you'd wake for days, but you have."

My gaze flickered to the vials and cloth on the chair. There was no blood there but I could see that the wound, if it could be called that, had been partially bandaged up, obviously to no avail. It was probably pointless anyway. "They?"

Cole smiled a small smile that seemed innocent, and gestured to the door. "Solas was the first to bring you here, worried but relieved when the pain stopped. Jaras never left your side. He too was worried but it was a different kind of worry, one of loss, losing you. Cassandra was confused, scared at the sparks that flew from your arm, sparking and souring through the air. She doesn't know you, know what to expect. Her fear comes from the past, unknowing in what to do. It's not her fault."

Voices thundered from the doorway, but the rising tones suggested an argument rather than discussion. "Are they out there now?"

Cole nodded. "Yes. The Inquisitor isn't though. Left but may be back soon."

I sighed. "Then I suppose I might as well end their arguing and surprise them, or maybe I could escape out of the window?"

Possibly curious about the possibility, Cole glanced around the room and, when the arguing grew louder, stalked over to the boarded window and tried to pry it open. To no avail, he looked back over his shoulder with a confused and almost lost expression. "It won't open."

I let out another sigh. "I didn't mean- never mind, Cole."

My fingers twitched at the rising voices from outside. The tones became more frustrated, brasher and it only added to my curiosity. Then, almost suddenly, the door bolt rasped and the handle fell down. Cole seemed to vanish without a trace, much to my surprise. I had to learn how he did that.

A pale hand was the first to be seen through the doorway, followed by pale robes with fur skin tied around the edges. Solas continued past the bed, unaware of my presence and to the window. A hand rested above his brow and his eyes were heavy-lidded, lying over dark circles. With a heavy sigh, he looked my way, then back to the window before realisation caught up with him.

"You're awake," he stated as he brought himself closer to the bed. Relief eased the tension away from his face and allowed him to smile, though only briefly. "How are you faring, lethallan?"

In remembrance of the headache, I brought a hand back and winced. "I feel like I've been hit on the head with a staff and then drenched in ice water for an hour. What happened?"

Solas' hands were fast but gentle in the replacing of the vials before he pulled the chair closer and sat down, perched slightly over the edge. The tiredness behind his eyes had dulled, replaced along with the smile to a serious frown. "What do you remember?"

"I remember... light. It was bright and burning. The shard. It was glowing. I was glowing. And the scars-"

"I'm afraid they've grown since you fell unconscious," he said. "I have tried to stem the growth but nothing I have tried has worked. It is a mystery."

I chuckled despite myself. It only caused Solas' frown to deepen. "I'm guessing you've never seen anything like this before, huh?

"I'm afraid not."

"It's okay. It'll stop eventually."

Curious, he raised an eyebrow. "This has happened before?"

"Since I first touched the shard? Yes. In the beginning it was minor. Barely any scarring, but then it began to extend up my arm, following the veins and creating these curved symbols you see here." I pointed to part of detailed skin, covered in what seemed like black ink with no dark skin to be seen. "It seems to have travelled across my chest now. Great."

His gaze flickered to my shoulder, then down my arm, only to rest on my hand for a moment before it was returned. "Does it hurt?"

"No. It's cold like ice. When the burning stops it usually feels that way. It lets me know that it's done growing, at least for the meantime."

There was silence between us for a few moments. It was awkward with barely any words or gestures passed. There was something the apostate had on his mind, that I was sure of. His head remained bowed, fixed on the boots he wore and the wooden boards beneath them. "You must forgive me." His voice was but a whisper, but was not like his usual self - confident and prideful like his name meant. Instead, he sounded defeated. "I did not think that something like this would happen over a minor spell-"

I stifled a laugh which only got him to raise his head. "Of course you didn't, but you're not the first to try something like this in the hope of helping. The Sahlin's Keeper tried when we first met and that had the same results. Worse actually. This isn't that much of a shock."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What difference would it have made? I need answers, Solas. A little pain is worth it so long as I live through this. Besides, I just thought it'd take control over me again like last time. I didn't think it'd have the same effect the Keeper's spell had. It's strange to tell you the truth."

Solas nodded in agreement. "That it is."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is you're safe, Da'mi."

I looked across the room, only to find Jaras stood against the doorway's frame with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

I smiled.

After a quick clearing of his throat, Solas reached to the floor and handed over one of the vials. "Here, this may help your headache. It's a healing salve."

The thought to take the vial was tempting, but I shook my hands and eased the vial away. "Mas serannas, but no."

"No?"

"I'd rather not."

Though hesitant, Solas placed the vial back onto the ground and stood. "Alright, but I will keep it here in case you change your mind."

"I won't, but it's a nice thought."

Somehow, the thought of the vial reminded me of something and I quickly swung my legs over the bed's edge and searched between the vials for it. Unsuccessful, I looked up. "Where's the shard?"

It was the dwarf who answered and it was only then that I noticed that he had been behind Jaras the whole time and heard the entire conversation. "Right here," said Dugan with the shard clasped appraisingly in both hands. "No damage done to it but I don't see this glow long-ears was talking about."

"Yes, well, I don't think I will try that for some time," said Solas. "Perhaps you were right, lethallan. Studying might be better than experimenting, at least for the time being and you regain your health."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not dying, Solas. I'll be fine. Something must have been found from your spell anyway."

Solas nodded. "There was, though this may come as a bit of a shock to you."

"Shock? That doesn't sound good."

He gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, though I suppose it is not all bad. Our assumption about the shard casing a spirit is true, at least from what I understand of what happened."

"Oh."

"You saw the spirit inside the shard glow before you fainted, did you not? You also began to glow, suggesting an attachment to the spirit."

"What are you trying to say? That I'm connected to a spirit trapped in the shard?" I asked, though slightly regretted it.

"Precisely, and it may explain your frequent bursts of energy, like when you first came to us and just before you fainted. My guess is that the spirit is trying to get out, or maybe your connection to it is becoming stable and, as it is doing so, channels great rifts of energy to you but with no way of release. This is just a theory of course but it seems the most plausible one."

Hesitant, I looked down at my arm. "I don't know about that, Solas."

"Look, I'm fairly certain what I believe to be true. I have spent my entire life studying the Fade and the energy I sensed from within the shard and the effect it had on you is clear."

"Alright," I said and looked up. "Then how do we get the spirit out?"

"I don't think that will be possible. However long it has been in there, it has grown attached to you in a way that will be difficult to remove, maybe even impossible. The effect it has over you just proves this."

Jaras moved from the doorway and over to the bed where he sat next to me. "Da'mi, you were close to death by the time that damned thing let you go. You were as white as a halla and that's not to mention the fact that you stopped breathing on your way here."

"Yet she recovered remarkably quickly as well once she was left alone," Solas added. "It's surprising as well as interesting."

Jaras frowned. "I don't care how interesting it is, lad. I only want her safe."

I glanced between the two of them as they began to argue once more. I had to wonder if it was just those two outside that made all that noise earlier. "Era seranna ma? Excuse me? Solas, what are you saying? That I will turn into some spirit? That it will take over me?"

Solas was the first to reply. "Quite the opposite in fact. I believe that given proper time it will simply become a part of who you are and perhaps cease to exist, but only time will tell."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not but it is the best chance you have. I will continue looking into the shard and see if maybe I can help in the process."

It was strange to think that what he proposed was true, but it seemed the most plausible explanation. The more time I spent in Skyhold, the more I found out, and the more I dreaded knowing more. "Alright. Mas serannas falon."

Solas nodded and, after realising that there was nothing more to talk about, moved towards the doorway. However, before he left, he turned back almost curiously. "Lahris, I wonder, have you met Cole?"

"That strange human who seems to follow me everywhere? Blonde hair, dull eyes, very pale and talks strangely?" I asked.

Solas nodded. "Yes, him. It may interest you to know that he is not a man at all, or at least not in the mental sense. Cole is a spirit, one of compassion, or was when he entered the physical world. Maybe talking to him will help ease your fears."

The blood inside of me ran cold. _Cole... was a spirit?_ That... did make sense once I thought over it, but I never thought that a spirit could be and act so human.

Jaras rose from the bed. "There's a spirit running around here? Unleashed? Is that even safe?"

Solas replied with a scowl. "He_ is_ safe. Cole would never hurt anyone intentionally, that is unless they hurt someone he cared for. You are safe with him, I assure you."

"You're certain that this spirit in the shard and I'm connected, aren't you Solas?" I asked.

Solas sighed. "In my eyes there is no other explanation. I have studied spirits for most of my life, Lahris, and I know one when I see it. Its intention hasn't been made clear but I believe that it is bound to you and is either trying to escape or is connecting to your body."

"Wonderful," I said with raised hands. "I was doomed from the start."

"Not at all. If this spirit does bind itself to you, then think of this as an experience. I doubt it will kill you and maybe you can learn from it, share its power."

I narrowed my eyes. "Something tells me that you can't wait to find out what will happen."

His scowl fell. "Not true. I will do everything I can to prevent anything happening to you."

"You better mean that, Solas."

With a short bow, the apostate mage left the room almost silently. Once he was gone and Jaras pushed Dugan out of the room with him, he turned back to me and reassumed his place on the bed.

"You alright, Da'mi? You scared me, you know."

"You know I didn't mean it. How long have I been out?"

"Two days," he said almost incredulously. "But it's two days too many. You're getting reckless. You need to be careful. I can't lose you, to the shemlen or spirit-thing."

"You're not going to, but you're kind of starting to scare me with the express of emotion. You're sure you're not the one who banged their head?"

A smirk rose across his face and he placed a heavy hand over his heart almost mockingly. "Ah, and to think I thought you'd see through my caring persona. Still though, Da'mi, you need to start being careful. No more experiments, you hear? Especially from that mage."

"You let me worry about that, but first help me up."

As I tried to stand, an arm was roped around Jaras' neck and he carefully helped me up. "Shouldn't you stay in bed?" he asked.

"I can't," I replied with a grunt as we moved towards the doorway.

"And why's that?"

"Because," I said, "I have a spirit to see and knowing him he could be anywhere in this damn fortress."


	12. Comforting Words Of A Spirit

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Twelve: Comforting Words Of A Spirit

Ironic. That was what it was.

After searching the grounds of Skyhold, it took us a long time to realise that the spirit we searched for was actually where we had left, only a floor above.

Loud ramblings of the tavern patrons echoed through the walls and across wooden beams to the third floor. Tankards were raised, drinks were spilled and cards were swapped between players on tables. If Cole really was a spirit of compassion, a tavern was a strange place for him to be. Though, perhaps the alcohol helped when it came to helping others. There was no guarantee that the drunkards would remember him and, as always, a man's most darkest secrets could come to light from the bottom of a stained tankard.

"There he is," said Jaras from the edge of the stairway. "Damn lad. We've been looking for him for hours now."

"Least we found him," I said and took a step forward, paused and then looked back. "Just so you know, I think Cole is able to read minds."

Jaras smiled a smile that reached his eyes. It was a disbelieving smile, one he used when he was told something and only thought of it as a jest, not real. My arms folded together and the serious expression I tried to hold onto only made his smile inch lower and lower until only a slight curve of his lips remained. "You're serious?"

"Completely."

He stared at the boy, half-curious and half-shocked. Eventually, the grin returned with a slight twinkle in his eye and he reached back to rub the base of his neck. "This just keeps getting better and better, Da'mi. I've been wondering where that dwarf, Varric I think his name is, keeps coming up with ideas for his stories. I'm starting to get the feeling that there's no thinking involved with the people he hangs around with. I mean a boy who ends up being a spirit and now can read minds, and that's not the mention the hole in the sky? This is just getting too strange."

Nodding, I nudged his shoulder. "Stranger things have happened to us."

"To you, aye. To me? Not so much."

With a light laugh, we dared to get closer to the spirit. Parts of his demeanor began to imitate that of a spirit, or at least what I believed a spirit would do. His pale eyes, too pale to be alive almost seemed to haunt those they lay upon and the way his lips seemed to move with no real instruction or meaning was also different. Even how he moved, lighter on his feet like a thief or assassin with years of training, was not real in a physical sense and his acts of disappearing - a power only he seemed to possess, was something unique. It made him quiet, ghostly - able to drift between rooms and places without those alive knowing.

"She hurts, but helping hurts more. She sees the strings that pull me, eyes like raisins in a stale cookie," Cole whispered as he looked down over the banister. At Jaras clearing his throat, Cole's grip drifted away and he looked up from underneath his hat. "Yes?"

"Cole?" I muttered, unsure of quite what to say. "Um, Solas told me to talk to you. He said that you could help me."

His hat tipped left and kept part of his face hidden. "Help? Yes, I can, or at least I will try." He stepped forward to which I stepped back. "You are worried, afraid because you don't know. Solas told you something, told you what you are and thought I could help, mend the ties. There are questions, circling and twisting into knots. I have answers."

Jaras coughed and hastily rubbed the back of his ear. "This lad's crazier than a one-horned halla."

I raised my hand. "Hush, Jaras. Yes, I have questions."

"Then ask," Cole said simply.

Many different thoughts ran through my mind, all possible questions to answers I wanted but didn't need. "What am I? Is what Solas said true? Am I connected to a spirit?"

It only took a brief heartbeat for Cole to reply. "You're a mage. The Fade sticks to mages. Little figments, flittering, floating free, then forced into shapes. Fire, ice. lightening. You're like that, but different. The magic sticks more to you, like a bear to honey, strong and loud but sad. It disappears at times, then comes back. It's strange. You're strange."

"Sad?" I asked. "What makes it sad?"

"Magic is happy. It dances around fingertips, staffs and bodies, bending, molding and then bursting, but yours causes pain, pulls on the Fade happy at first but then changes, sparks out uncontrolled and with it screams, but no one hears. I was like that once. On the edge, lost, forgotten. Now, I'm me. I'm Cole. The magic will settle in the water, no more ripples. You will see."

"What do you mean you're you? As in a spirit of compassion?"

Cole looked to be at a loss for words. His lips parted and then closed, over and over until he came to a decision. "Yes. No. I was- am. Varric helped me, made me more here. More human. It's hard being human, but I can still help."

"So, you've always been a spirit?"

"Yes."

"Then we're different." I lowered my gaze. "A spirit isn't trying to possess you."

"The spirit isn't trying you to possess you, either."

I looked up, confused. "How... do you know?"

Cole's eyes sparkled at the sense of my hope, but it was fleeting. "When you fell into the Fade, fell unconscious, I was there, watching. The spirit spoke out. It was brief, quick but I felt its pain. It wants out but can't because the walls are too thick, the cage too tight. Cleverly locked, there is no escape but through you. It does not wish to possess, but to escape. You are its escape. Being you, but not you. It does not want to hurt, but to help. Without you, it stays locked. Hidden away, never to be heard."

"And what am I to do exactly?" I asked, and felt the anger betray what little control I had over my voice. "Let it take me?"

Both the spirit's hands were raised. "It will not take you. It will help you. Is trying to help you."

"How? How is it trying to help me?"

The spirit opened his mouth again, but no words were formed. His shoulders fell. "I... I don't know."

At the sight of his defeat, I leaned back against the banister and shook my head. It wasn't his fault. Truthfully, the thought of losing myself to something I barely knew anything about frightened me, and the thought of losing myself at all, my awareness, my control over my own body terrified me to no end. It sent shivers to the pit of my stomach and made me more and more ill the more I thought about it. "What if it doesn't want to help, Cole?" I asked quietly, only just able to hide the tremor in my voice. "What if don't stay me? What if I become the spirit locked inside?"

A hand was pressed against my shoulder, an all-too human gesture for a spirit and I could see then how much Varric had changed him for the better, even if I didn't know either of them well. It was comforting and in a way did help. "Solas won't let that happen. You will stay you! You will not change."

I allowed my shoulder to drop, but Cole's hand stayed there. "I don't understand. Why does Solas want to help me? I've done nothing to earn his trust."

"You are a mystery to him. Different but familiar, reminder of an old time, long ago. A spirit he once knew but gone now. You are a distraction, fleeting, daunting, but mind keeps focused. Won't remember. Forgets loss. Forgets pain. It helps him to focus. You help him."

That barely made any sense, apart from the fact that it seemed Solas had a past of his own. I was not one to judge, though. I looked up at Cole smiling despite myself. "You're strange, you know that?"

A mixture of confusion and satisfaction crossed the boy's face. "I don't know that."

I laughed as his hand was retracted and stepped over to Jaras who seemed amused by the whole ordeal. "Mas serannas, Cole. You've... helped me, a lot. It may not seem like it but I feel better. I'm just worried."

"It's not just the spirit that scares you."

I blinked. "What?"

"You hear his name in your sleep, thrashing, collapsing into a nightmare with his face and poisoned words whispered into your ears. _Remember who you belong to, harallen. Remember where your true loyalties lie."_

"Cole, don't-"

"He comes to kill you."

The tavern fell silent, or perhaps it was just me. The spirit went from helping my fear to guiding it to something else entirely. "I know."

Cole carried on. "He is the reason you're here. The reason you're scared to leave Skyhold's walls. You care about a cure but stay because of him." Cole paused when he realised what effect his words had. "I-"

"Cole, no more. Don't ever speak about him again."

The spirit nodded sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause more pain."

"It isn't-" I sighed. "Look, some things are better left forgotten. I don't want to be reminded of him. For the moment, I'm comfortable thinking he's out there and not in here."

"I understand."

Once I mimicked the gesture he did before in the hope that he would understand that he did help to an extent, I followed Jaras down the stairway and away from Cole's range of hearing. Once we were alone inside my room, Jaras moved to the door and slowly closed it. It took him a while before he turned. "Is what he said true, Da'mi? Is that lad really bothering you so much?"

"Yes." I had to admit it. Jaras was always the one person who could sniff out a lie. "Jaras, my old master killed to gain our attention."

"That isn't the first time he's done that."

"But he'll carry on. He'll find a way into Skyhold's walls and take us. He'll rip this fort apart just to try it."

Jaras drew himself closer. "Hey, if people die then it isn't our fault. He's the one going out there killing the Inquisiton's soldiers, not us."

My hands pulled away and I rested my body against the boarded window. "I don't care about their deaths. I only care about our survival. If Skyhold and the Inquisition won't hold him back, what will?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Da'mi, but worrying about it will achieve nothing. Come on. We'll go get a drink. Rest a while. Hear a story or two. Forget about him for now. You've been through enough. You're going through enough."

"It's not that easy, falon."

"May not be, but worrying about this shit ain't going to do much." He paused. "Maybe it's worth telling someone about us here."

My fingers twitched. "What? No. That's not an option."

"Not about you, but about Varhel. If we explain our situation, maybe we'd gain a few friends that can help us find somewhere new. Somewhere remote, away from here and as far away from Varhel as possible."

"We did that, remember? No. If the time comes, we will but for now we can't leave and we can't trust anyone."

"You seem to be trusting that mage quite a lot."

I frowned. "Solas? Only because he's my way of finding a cure."

Surprisingly, Jaras grinned widely. "Hah, yeah, sure, Da'mi."

"Jaras, what are you-?"

"I'm not up to anything," he said and took the chance to grab my arm and tug me to the door. "Come on, let's go get a drink. After today, I need one."


	13. Arrow

The Spectral Breath

Chapter Thirteen: Arrow

"So, let me get this straight. You enter my fortress seeking aid, injure over a handful of my men, use valuable time my researchers could be using doing something useful for the Inquisition and then, when I hear word that you are beginning to have a breakthrough, I find out that an envoy of mine was pillaged with all the guards murdered. Is all of this true, or is this some idiot's idea of a jest?" asked the Inquisitor as he paced from one end of the courtyard to the other, his cuffs clasped firmly behind his back and head held higher with every moment that passed like he owned the place, though I supposed he did.

I watched his movements carefully, especially the clenching and unclenching of his fists against his forehead when he went to brush stray strands of hair back. A nervous habit, I suspected. "It's true."

His boots halted in the thick of the dirt. "And what do you expect me to do now, hmm? Allow you to carry on your research? Have more lives end because of your staying here?"

"Is that all you came to talk about? Why have you really brought me here? Was it just to ramble on about things that have happened, or is there a reason?"

"I asked for you to come here alone because I am at a loss for what I can do," he admitted and let out a shaky breath. "You know about Corypheus, yes?"

"I have heard rumours. That you founded the Inquisition in the hope of ending him, and that he is the result of the tear in the sky."

"Oh, if only that were all of it." The Inquisitor resumed his pacing. The strides became longer and faster as he spoke. "He is our main goal, and you have brought a new threat, one that my organisation does not need."

"Then what are you going to do? Throw me to the wolves? Allow my old master to-" I swallowed thickly. "What are you going to do?"

The Inquisitor held his place once more. A hand brushed his chin while the other fell against his side. "Look, elf. I didn't come here to insult you. I've heard the report from Cassandra. You're a slave, aren't you?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Cassandra told me what you told her about this Varhel. Naming him as 'master' makes me wonder if you were a slave to him, and not some scholar you claimed him to be in the midst of delving through elf ruins."

I tried not to frown, but keeping a straight face or even keeping calm with that human was difficult. He was getting too personal for his own good. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh? Enlighten me. Did you mean 'master' as a mentor? A teacher? A man you used to serve willingly? Because the way you described him wasn't exactly pleasant or positive, which leads me to the conclusion that you've lied about who you are."

"What I am means nothing to you, _Inquisitor!"_ I spat the last word out like poison. The bitterness I held for what he dared to assume was made clear to him and all around, and without another word, I left him where he stood: by the training targets with a scowl etched firmly across his face. My feet moved on their own accord while my thoughts surged through the many appealing ways to set the human alight, though my knowledge of the fire element to magic was severely limited. A light of fire was something I could have tried, but it probably would have extinguished itself before it had even reached his chest. An ice spike to the gut would have done just fine, though. I almost ran to the stairway, uncaring of who had seen the outburst or of the Inquisitor himself.

Before my feet touched the stone slab, an arm yanked mine back and I was once again forced to face him. "On the contrary," the Inquisitor said with his lips surprisingly turned down and eyes lowered almost sadly. "It means a lot considering my decisions." He loosened his hold, but not completely.

"Don't pity me, human."

"It's not pity. At least not entirely. You should have said you were a slave. I wouldn't have been so harsh on you."

"I'm _not_ a slave." The Inquisitor stumbled back at the push. It was not supposed to be hard, but enough to get my message across. Without another look, I turned away. "What does it matter what I was? That part of my life is over. There's no use in bringing up dead memories that won't serve a purpose."

"It matters because for all this time I thought that you were here as an inconvenience - someone who set off some magical artifact and got herself into trouble. I didn't think you were actually running away from something, especially not slavery." His arm reached out for mine again, but it was gentler that time, almost like he was being careful not to come off as threatening. "I want you to know that I sympathize with you, not pity you. Slavery is an unkind evil and I know a friend who was forced into it, many a-year ago."

"And?"

"_And,_ I'm saying that maybe if you had mentioned it sooner, it would have further influenced my help, rather than you stalking around Skyhold like it's your own, acting mysterious." The Inquisitor's hand dropped.

"And I'm not mysterious now that you know?"

"Not now that I know that the man that's after you deserves his fate."

My fingers curled in on themselves. The fabric of my tunic went tight against my fist. "He deserves it alright. But I suppose the choice stands, doesn't it? What are you going to do, Inquisitor? He knows I'm here now. He isn't going to stop until your whole fortress is gone, burned down and left to dust."

As if cast by some spell, the Inquisitor's sympathizing nature disappeared and was replaced by the same side of himself that was at the Keep during my trial: arrogant and over-confident. "I highly doubt that. He may be a threat, but not one I can't handle."

"Then you really underestimate him." I laughed. "You really shouldn't."

"I'm trying to make peace with you here, el- Lahris. But you spitting it back in my face isn't going to help make things easier."

I stepped closer to him. He did not back away, but his gaze watched mine carefully, obviously unsure of what I would do. "You're only saying that because of what I was." Another step. "You don't really care." One more. "If you never knew what I was, what the Seeker had told you, would you really value me so much now, or would you have no trouble sending me out of Skyhold?" My face was inches from his, chin close to chin, but the close proximity was all that was needed to see the twitch of his lip, the crease in his forehead and the sweat on his brow.

Ah, there it was. The doubt. The lie. Shifty, was the Inquisitor. His honour and pride told one thing but his demons said another. Cole was right. He was in a war with himself: two warriors down to a tight rope. I had to wonder what it would take for that tight rope to snap.

"That's not the point."

"It is, Inquisitor. It is." I clapped my arms together and leaned back against the training target. "I came here for your help. I came here for this curse to be cured, and now I've come so far..."

"I never said you hadn't, elf."

"Then, again, why am I here?"

It seemed the true Inquisitor had come to light. "I can't have any more of my men killed because of you."

I tipped my head to the side. "Is it really your men, or is it the thought of losing power?"

"How dare you-"

"And if you let me go, only more will die. My old master will not let you go. Even with me gone, he'll still burn this place."

Surprisingly, the Inquisitor smirked. "You're acting as if I would accept his request."

"And won't you?"

"What kind of fool do you take me for, elf? I may be hard to get along with, that I know, but I have my pride. I will not willingly bargain with a slaver."

"So you say."

"So I mean!"

"It's not like you're not getting anything from this bargain anyway," I continued and turned to look at the sky. "My falon's clan is sending you support and this power I have, whatever it is, may help you in the long term. It may cost you some of your men but it isn't like you're not gaining anything back."

"That's not worth the amount of lives on the line."

"Your soldiers were going to be killed anyway, whether on your envoy or in another fight. You know that. That's why you have them."

The Inquisitor opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a sigh and then a groan. He knew I was right. It wasn't that I didn't approve of his men's valiant sacrifice, but if Varhel didn't kill them, someone else would have. It was cruel, but their lives did not matter to me. All that mattered was survival and that meant having allies in Skyhold.

"I'll make you a deal," the Inquisitor said after some time. "Tell me everything you know about Varhel, your past - everything, and, if true, you'll be welcome to stay here. Lie and leave."

"You haven't exactly earned my favour," I said.

"And you don't have many options."

Fenedhis. It was argument after argument, lie upon lie. There was only so much those humans would have believed before it came to a blunt end. It was supposed to be easier. A way in Skyhold, find a cure and leave. That was the plan. It just had to get more complicated.

As I thought over what I was going to say in my defense, a light, small and quick like a shimmer shone from above the wall-line to the length of undergrowth behind it. There was a shadow close to the tree, one that was almost human and with it came a low creak. The shadow moved.

"Inquisitor!" I pushed the human out of the way. Both my arms were grabbed by him and together we fell to the ground.

Air whipped past my cheek and it was when I turned my head that I recognised the arrow tip lodged into the grass.

The Inquisitor looked at the arrow and then to the wall where the perpetrator locked another arrow in place. "Archers!"

Before the next arrow hit the ground, a blade of steel was drawn from the Inquisitor's sheath. His back collided into an archery target. There he brought his blade up and used the surface to spot the archer.

At the sight of the archer, I allowed the build-up of magic to fill my fingers and let loose a spike of ice that just missed the archer's leg. The archer went down, a growl escaped his lips, and with his bowstring pulled back, another arrow thrummed through the air, only to miss my chest by the wall of ice that surrounded my body.

"Elf!" the Inquisitor called. "Use your magic to distract him while I go up the stairway."

Nodding, I gently grazed my fingertips against the ice and leaned sideways. I was just able to see the dark shadow beneath the undergrowth. The air whipped past my face once more. Another arrow.

The Inquisitor didn't give any indication as to when he had decided to pursue his target. Instead, it was only when his form flew across the wall that I realised he had made his move. The shadow noticed. It moved sideways, then grew taller. Silver armour flashed against the sun's light and it was then that I noticed that the archer had his eyes set on the Inquisitor.

With a slow intake of breath, I rubbed my hands together and focused on the wall-line, just past the undergrowth. My head began to grow heavy as the air clouded and turned cold. Mist formed from the earth and meshed into specks of white that began to surround the archer until his arms had grown still and his feet stiff on the ground. I raised my hands. Great white sheets spiraled around the archer's legs until his boots could no longer be seen. He cried, a loud shriek, yet through the blizzard stood the Inquisitor. He staggered to the archer with arms clasped over his brow and his tunic's hem flapping against the strong pull of the wind. My hands moved accordingly, curving and weaving the white specks into waves that surrounded the archer, yet missed the Inquisitor. When the archer was in reach yet unable to defend, the Inquisitor's blade struck, quick and clean. The archer choked out, but the cry of the wind silenced him. The white specks disappeared, the trees settled and a body lay against the ground, stiff and lifeless.

On closer look, it was obvious what had happened. A hole punctured the archer's chest. A heart would have been noticeable through the rib cage if it had not been soaked in a large puddle of water and blood. The blood stained the white armour, clearly displayed under the tattered fabric of the archer's sable coat.

As I walked up the stairway to join the Inquisitor, I noticed that the archer looked familiar and that, with the pointed edges of his cowl, he was elvhen.

The tip of the Inquisitor's blade still clung to the red that covered its sides, but the Inquisitor didn't seem to care. He nudged the edge of the archer's cowl off and then tipped the side of his face. Kneeling, the Inquisitor scratched his chin. "I can't make out who this man is."

It only took one look at the pale face, pointed ears and armour to know who the archer was. "That bastard."

The Inquisitor looked up. "Excuse me?"

"He sent assassins. The bastard actually sent assassins."

"Who did?"

"Who do you think?"

I knelt down beside the Inquisitor and fumbled through the armour pockets. Damn it. Empty. "I think you better start worrying about Varhel being a threat, Inquisitor. If this one managed to get his way in here, it's only a matter of time before more come."

For the first time since I came to Skyhold, the Inquisitor actually seemed to be at a loss for words. The arrogant, over-confident nature of him had disappeared and the look of surprise was something that I truly didn't want to see again. After a long moment, the Inquisitor drew himself up and turned to look at the front gate. "Indeed."

...

_Thanks so much for reading and the comments! I'm glad you guys are liking this story so far :) Next chapter will have more of Solas and the gang in and will hopefully move this story on to the more interesting bits.  
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